THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

IRVINE 

GIFT  OF 
MRS.    JOHN  A.    BELL 


SHOCKS 


THE    HOOSIER 
SCH  O  OLM  ASTE  R 

A  Story  of  Backwoods  Life 
in  Indiana 

REVISED 
with  an  introduction  and  Notes  on  the  District 

by  the  Author, 
EDWARD  EQQLESTON, 
With  Character  Sketches  by 

F.  OPPER 

and  other  Illustrations  by 
W.  E.  B.  STARKWEATHER 


OROSSET      &      DXJNLAP 

PUBLISHERS  NEW    YORK 


Entered  according:  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1871,  by 

ORANGE  JUDD  &  CO., 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


Copyright,  1892. 
By  ORANGE  JUDD  COMPANY, 

Copyright,  1809 
By  EDWARD  EGGLESTON. 


AS  A  PEBBLE  CAST  UPON  A  GREAT 
CAIRN,  THIS  EDITION  IS  INSCRIBED  TO  THE 
MEMORY  OF  JAMES  RUSSELL  LOWELL. 
WHOSE  CORDIAL  ENCOURAGEMENT  TO  MY 
EARLY  STUDIES  OF  AMERICAN  DIALECT  IS 
GRATEFULLY  REMEMBERED. 

THE  AUTHOR. 


PREFACE  TO  THE  LIBRARY  EDITION. 

BEING   THE   HISTORY   OF  A  STORY. 


"THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER"  was  written 
and  printed  in  the  autumn  of  1871.  It  is  therefore 
now  about  twenty-one  years  old,  and  the  publishers 
propose  to  mark  its  coming  of  age  by  issuing  a  li 
brary  edition.  I  avail  myself  of  the  occasion  to 
make  some  needed  revisions,  and  to  preface  the 
new  edition  with  an  account  of  the  origin  and  ad 
ventures  of  the  book.  If  I  should  seem  to  betray 
unbecoming  pride  in  speakng  of  a  story  that  has 
passed  into  several  languages  and  maintained  an 
undiminished  popularity  for  more  than  a  score  of 
years,  I  count  on  receiving  the  indulgence  com 
monly  granted  to  paternal  vanity  when  cele 
brating  the  majority  of  a  first-born.  With  all  its 
faults  on  its  head,  this  little  tale  has  become  a  clas 
sic,  in  the  bookseller's  sense  at  least ;  and  a  public 
that  has  shown  so  constant  a  partiality  for  it  has 
a  right  to  feel  some  curiosity  regarding  its  history. 

I  persuade  myself  that  additional  extenuation  for 


6  PREFACE  TO   THE   LIBRARY   EDITION. 

this  biography  of  a  book  is  to  be  found  in  the  rela 
tion  which  "  The  Hoosier  School-Master  "  happens 
to  bear  to  the  most  significant  movement  in  Ameri 
can  literature  in  our  generation.  It  is  the  file-leader 
of  the  procession  of  American  dialect  novels.  Be 
fore  the  appearance  of  this  story,  the  New  England 
folk-speech  had  long  been  employed  for  various 
literary  purposes,  it  is  true;  and  after  its  use  by 
Lowell,  it  had  acquired  a  standing  that  made  it  the 
classic  lingua  rustica  of  the  United  States.  Even 
Hoosiers  and  Southerners  when  put  into  print,  as 
they  sometimes  were  in  rude  burlesque  stories, 
usually  talked  about  "  huskin'  bees  "  and  "  apple- 
parin'  bees  "  and  used  many  other  expressions  for 
eign  to  their  vernacular.  American  literature 
hardly  touched  the  speech  and  life  of  the  people 
outside  of  New  England  ;  in  other  words,  it  was 
provincial  in  the  narrow  sense. 

I  can  hardly  suppose  that  "  The  Hoosier  School- 
Master  "  bore  any  causative  relation  to  that  broader 
provincial  movement  in  our  literature  which  now 
includes  such  remarkable  productions  as  the  writ 
ings  of  Mr.  Cable,  Mr.  Harris,  Mr.  Page,  Miss 
Murfree,  Mr.  Richard  Malcom  Johnson,  Mr.  Howe, 
Mr.  Garland,  some  of  Mrs.  Burnett's  stories  and 
others  quite  worthy  of  inclusion  in  this  list.  The 
taking  up  of  life  in  this  regional  way  has  made  our 


REFACE   TO   THE  LIBRARY   EDITION.  / 

literature  really  national  by  the  only  process  possi 
ble.  The  Federal  nation  has  at  length  manifested 
a  consciousness  of  the  continental  diversity  of  its 
forms  of  life.  The  "great  American  novel,"  for 
which  prophetic  critics  yearned  so  fondly  twenty 
years  ago,  is  appearing  in  sections.  I  may  claim  for 
this  book  the  distinction,  such  as  it  is,  of  being  the 
first  of  the  dialect  stories  that  depict  a  life  quite 
beyond  New  England  influence.  Some  of  Mr.  Bret 
Harte's  brief  and  powerful  tales  had  already  fore 
shadowed  this  movement  toward  a  larger  rendering 
of  our  life.  But  the  romantic  character  of  Mr. 
Harte's  delightful  stories  and  the  absence  of  any 
thing  that  can  justly  be  called  dialect  in  them  mark 
them  as  rather  forerunners  than  beginners  of  the 
prevailing  school.  For  some  years  after  the  ap 
pearance  of  the  present  novel,  my  own  stories  had 
to  themselves  the  field  of  provincial  realism  (if,  in 
deed,  there  be  any  such  thing  as  realism)  before 
there  came  the  succession  of  fine  productions  which 
have  made  the  last  fourteen  years  notable. 

Though  it  had  often  occurred  to  me  to  write 
something  in  the  dialect  now  known  as  Hoosier — 
the  folk  speech  of  the  southern  part  of  Ohio,  In 
diana,  and  Illinois  of  forty  years  ago — I  had  post 
poned  the  attempt  indefinitely,  probably  because 
the  only  literary  use  that  had  been  made  of  the 


8  PREFACE   TO   THE   LIBRARY   EDITION. 

allied  speech  of  the  Southwest  had  been  in  the 
books  of  the  primitive  humorists  of  that  region. 
I  found  it  hard  to  dissociate  in  my  own  mind  the 
dialect  from  the  somewhat  coarse  boisterousness 
which  seemed  inseparable  from  it  in  the  works  of 
these  rollicking  writers.  It  chanced  that  in  1871 
Taine's  lectures  on  "  Art  in  the  Netherlands,"  or 
rather  Mr.  John  Durand's  translation  of  them,  fell 
into  my  hands  as  a  book  for  editorial  review.  These 
discourses  are  little  else  than  an  elucidation  of  the 
thesis  that  the  artist  of  originality  will  work  coura 
geously  with  the  materials  he  finds  in  his  own  envi 
ronment.  In  Taine's  view,  all  life  has  matter  for  the 
artist,  if  only  he  have  eyes  to  see. 

Many  years  previous  to  the  time  of  which  I  am 
now  speaking,  while  I  was  yet  a  young  man,  I  had 
projected  a  lecture  on  the  Hoosier  folk-speech,  and 
had  even  printed  during  the  war  a  little  political 
skit  in  that  dialect  in  a  St.  Paul  paper.  So  far  as  I 
know,  nothing  else  had  ever  been  printed  in  the 
Hoosier.  Under  the  spur  of  Taine's  argument,  I 
now  proceeded  to  write  a  short  story  wholly  in 
the  dialect  spoken  in  my  childhood  by  rustics  on 
the  north  side  of  the  Ohio  River.  This  tale  I  called 
"  The  Hoosier  School-Master."  It  consisted  almost 
entirely  of  an  autobiographical  narration  in  dialect 
by  Mirandy  Means  of  the  incidents  that  form  the 


PREFACE  TO  THE  LIBRARY   EDITION.  9 

groundwork  of  the  present  story.  I  was  the 
newly  installed  editor  of  a  weekly  journal,  Hearth 
and  Home,  and  I  sent  this  little  story  in  a  new  dia 
lect  to  my  printer.  It  chanced  that  one  of  the 
proprietors  of  the  paper  saw  a  part  of  it  in  proof. 
He  urged  me  to  take  it  back  and  make  a  longer 
story  out  of  the  materials,  and  he  expressed  great 
confidence  in  the  success  of  such  a  story.  Yielding 
to  his  suggestion,  I  began  to  write  this  novel  from 
week  to  week  as  it  appeared  in  the  paper,  and  thus 
found  myself  involved  in  the  career  of  a  novelist, 
which  had  up  to  that  time  formed  no  part  of  my 
plan  of  life.  In  my  inexperience  I  worked  at  a 
white-heat,  completing  the  book  in  ten  weeks. 
Long  before  these  weeks  of  eager  toil  were  over, 
it  was  a  question  among  my  friends  whether  the 
novel  might  not  write  finis  to  me  before  I  should 
see  the  end  of  it. 

The  sole  purpose  I  had  in  view  at  first  was  the 
resuscitation  of  the  dead-and-alive  newspaper  of 
which  I  had  ventured  to  take  charge.  One  of  the 
firm  of  publishers  thought  much  less  favorably  of 
my  story  than  his  partner  did.  I  was  called  into 
the  private  office  and  informed  with  some  severity 
that  my  characters  were  too  rough  to  be  presenta 
ble  in  a  paper  so  refined  as  ours.  I  confess  they 
did  seem  somewhat  too  robust  fora  sheet  so  anaemic 


IO  PREFACE  TO  THE  LIBRARY  EDITION. 

as  Hearth  and  Home  had  been  in  the  months  just 
preceding.  But  when,  the  very  next  week  after 
this  protest  was  made,  the  circulation  of  the  paper 
increased  some  thousands  at  a  bound,  my  employ 
er's  critical  estimate  of  the  work  underwent  a  rapid 
change — a  change  based  on  what  seemed  to  him 
better  than  merely  literary  considerations.  By  the 
time  -the  story  closed,  at  the  end  of  fourteen  instal 
ments,  the  subscription  list  had  multiplied  itself 
four  or  five  fold.  It  is  only  fair  to  admit,  however, 
that  the  original  multiplicand  had  been  rather 
small. 

Papers  in  Canada  and  in  some  of  the  other  Eng 
lish  colonies  transferred  the  novel  bodily  to  their 
columns,  and  many  of  the  American  country  papers 
helped  themselves  to  it  quite  freely.  It  had  run 
some  weeks  of  its  course  before  it  occurred  to  any 
one  that  it  might  profitably  be  reprinted  in  book 
form.  The  publishers  were  loath  to  risk  much  in 
the  venture.  The  newspaper  type  was  rejustified 
to  make  a  book  page,  and  barely  two  thousand 
copies  were  printed  for  a  first  edition.  I  remem 
ber  expressing  the  opinion  that  the  number  was  too 
large. 

"  The  Hoosier  School  Master  "  was  pirated  with 
the  utmost  promptitude  by  tha  Messrs.  Routledge,  in 
England,  for  that  was  in  the  barbarous  days  before 


PREFACE  TO   THE   LIBRARY   EDITION.  II 

international  copyright,  when  English  publishers 
complained  of  the  unscrupulousness  of  American  re- 
printers,  while  they  themselves  pounced  upon  every 
line  of  American  production  that  promised  some 
shillings  of  profit.  "The  Hoosier  School-Master" 
was  brought  out  in  England  in  a  cheap,  sensational 
form.  The  edition  of  ten  thousand  has  long 
been  out  of  print.  For  this  large  edition  and  for 
the  editions  issued  in  the  British  colonies  and  in 
continental  Europe  I  have  never  received  a  penny. 
A  great  many  men  have  made  money  out  of  the 
book,  but  my  own  returns  have  been  compara 
tively  small.  For  its  use  in  serial  form  I  received 
nothing  beyond  my  salary  as  editor.  On  the 
copyright  edition  I  have  received  the  moderate 
royalty  allowed  to  young  authors  at  the  outset  of 
their  work.  The  sale  of  the  American  edition  in 
the  first  twenty  years  amounted  to  seventy  thou 
sand  copies.  The  peculiarity  of  this  sale  is  its  steadi 
ness.  After  twenty  years,  "  The  Hoosier  School- 
Master  "  is  selling  at  the  average  rate  of  more  than 
three  thousand  copies  per  annum.  During  the 
last  half-dozen  years  the  popularity  of  the  book  has 
apparently  increased,  and  its  twentieth  year  closed 
with  a  sale  of  twenty-one  hundred  in  six  months. 
Only  those  who  are  familiar  with  the  book  trade 
and  who  know  how  brief  is  the  life  of  the  average 


12  PREFACE  TO   THE   LIBRARY   EDITION. 

novel  will  understand  how  exceptional  is  this  long- 
continued  popularity. 

Some  of  the  newspaper  reviewers  of  twenty  years 
ago  were  a  little  puzzled  to  know  what  to  make  of 
a  book  in  so  questionable  a  shape,  for  the  American 
dialect  novel  was  then  a  new-comer.  But  nothing 
could  have  given  a  beginner  more  genuine  pleasure 
than  the  cordial  commendation  of  the  leading  pro 
fessional  critic  of  the  time,  the  late  Mr.  George 
Ripley,  who  wrote  an  extended  review  of  this  book 
for  the  Tribune.  The  monthly  magazines  all  spoke  of 
"  The  Hoosier  School-Master  "  in  terms  as  favorable 
as  it  deserved.  I  cannot  pretend  that  I  was  con 
tent  with  these  notices  at  the  time,  for  I  had  the 
sensitiveness  of  a  beginner.  But  on  looking  at  the 
reviews  in  the  magazines  of  that  day,  I  am  amused 
to  find  that  the  faults  pointed  out  in  the  work  of 
my  prentice  hand  are  just  those  that  I  should  be 
disposed  to  complain  of  now,  if  it  were  any  part  of 
my  business  to  tell  the  reader  wherein  I  might  have 
done  better. 

The  Nation,  then  in  its  youth,  honored  "  The  Hoo 
sier  School-Master  "  by  giving  it  two  pages,  mostly  in 
discussion  of  its  dialect,  but  dispensing  paradoxical 
praise  and  censure  in  that  condescending  way 
with  which  we  are  all  familiar  enough.  Accord 
ing  to  its  critic,  the  author  had  understood  and 


PREFACE  TO   THE  LIBRARY  EDITION.  13 

described  the  old  Western  life,  but  he  had  done  it 
"quite  sketchily,  to  be  sure."  Yet  it  was  done 
w  with  essential  truth  and  some  effectiveness."  The 
sritic,  however,  instantly  stands  on  the  other  foot 
again  and  adds  that  the  book  "  is  not  a  captivating 
one."  But  he  makes  amends  in  the  very  next  sen 
tence  by  an  allusion  to  "  the  faithfulness  of  its  tran 
script  of  the  life  it  depicts,"  and  then  instantly 
balances  the  account  on  the  adverse  side  of  the 
ledger  by  assuring  the  reader  that  "  it  has  no  interest 
of  passion  or  mental  power."  But  even  this  fatal 
conclusion  is  diluted  by  a  dependent  clause.  "  Pos 
sibly,"  says  the  reviewer,  "  the  good  feeling  of  the 
intertwined  love  story  may  conciliate  the  good-will 
of  some  of  the  malcontent."  One  could  hardly 
carry  further  the  fine  art  of  oscillating  between 
moderate  commendation  and  parenthetical  damna 
tion — an  art  that  lends  a  factitious  air  of  judicial 
impartiality  and  mental  equipoise.  Beyond  ques 
tion,  The  Nation  is  one  of  the  ablest  weekly  papers 
in  the  world ;  the  admirable  scholarship  of  its  arti 
cles  and  reviews  in  departments  of  special  knowl 
edge  might  well  be  a  subject  of  pride  to  any 
American.  But  its  inadequate  reviews  of  current 
fiction  add  nothing  to  its  value,  and  its  habitual 
tone  of  condescending  depreciation  in  treating 
imaginative  literature  of  indigenous  origin  is  one 


14  PREFACE  TO  THE  LIBRARY  EDITION. 

of  the  strongest  discouragements  to  literary  pro 
duction. 

The  main  value  of  good  criticism  lies  in  its  readi 
ness  and  penetration  in  discovering  and  applauding 
merit  not  before  recognized,  or  imperfectly  recog 
nized.  This  is  a  conspicuous  trait  of  Sainte-Beuve, 
the  greatest  of  all  newspaper  critics.  He  knew  how 
to  be  severe  upon  occasion,  but  he  saw  talent  in 
advance  of  the  public  and  dispensed  encourage 
ment  heartily,  so  that  he  made  himself  almost  a  fos 
ter-father  to  the  literature  of  his  generation  in 
France.  But  there  is  a  class  of  anonymous  review 
ers  in  England  and  America  who  seem  to  hold  a 
traditional  theory  that  the  function  of  a  critic 
toward  new-born  talent  is  analogous  to  that  of  Pha 
raoh  toward  the  infant  Jewish  population.1 

During  the  first  year  after  its  publication  "  The 

1  Since  writing  the  passage  in  the  text,  I  have  met  with  the  follow 
ing  in  The  Speaker,  of  London  :  "  Everybody  knows  that  when  an 
important  work  is  published  in  history,  philosophy,  or  any  branch  of 
science,  the  editor  of  a  respectable  paper  employs  an  expert  to  review 
it;  ...  indeed,  the  more  abstruse  the  subject  of  the  book,  the  more 
careful  and  intelligent  you  will  find  the  review.  .  .  .  It  is  equally  well 
known  that  works  of  fiction  and  books  of  verse  are  not  treated  with 
anything  like  the  same  care.  ...  A  good  poem,  play,  or  novel  is 
at  least  as  fine  an  achievement  as  a  good  history  ;  yet  the  history  gets 
the  benefit  of  an  expert's  judgment  and  two  columns  of  thoughtful 
praise  or  censure,  while  the  poem,  play,  or  novel  is  treated  to  ten 
skittish  lines  by  the  hack  who  happens  to  be  within  nearest  call  when 
the  book  comes  in." 


PREFACE  TO  THE   LIBRARY  EDITION.  1 5 

Hoosier  School-Master  "  was  translated  into  French 
and  published  in  a  condensed  form  in  the  Revue 
des  Deux  Mondes.  The  translator  was  the  writer 
who  signs  the  name  M.  Th.  Bentzon,  and  who  is 
wsll  known  to  be  Madame  Blanc.  This  French 
version  afterward  appeared  in  book  form  in  the 
same  volume  with  one  of  Mr.  Thomas  Bailey  Al- 
drich's  stories  and  some  other  stories  of  mine.  In 
this  latter  shape  I  have  never  seen  it.  The  title 
given  to  the  story  by  Madame  Blanc  was  "  Le  Maitre 
d'£cole  de  Flat  Creek."  It  may  be  imagined  that 
the  translator  found  it  no  easy  task  to  get  equiva 
lents  in  French  for  expressions  in  a  dialect  new  and 
strange.  "  I'll  be  dog-on'd  "  appears  in  French  as 
"  devil  take  me  "  ("  diable  m'emporte  "),  which  is  not 
bad ;  the  devil  being  rather  a  jolly  sort  of  fellow,  in 
French.  "  The  Church  of  the  Best  Licks  "  seems 
rather  unrenderable,  and  I  do  not  see  how  the  trans 
lator  could  have  found  a  better  phrase  for  it  than 
"L'Eglise  des  Racltfes"  though  " raclees "  does  not 
convey  the  double  sense  of  "licks."  "Jim  epelaif 
vite  comme  F eclair  "  is  not  a  good  rendering  of  "  Jim 
spelled  like  lightning,"  since  it  is  not  the  celerity  of 
the  spelling  that  is  the  main  consideration.  "  Con- 
cours  d'epellation  "  is  probably  the  best  equivalent 
for  "  spelling-school,"  but  it  seems  something  more 
stately  in  its  French  dress.  When  Bud  says,  with 


l6  PREFACE  TO   THE   LIBRARY   EDITION. 

reference  to  Hannah,  "  I  never  took  no  shine  that 
air  way,"  the  phrase  is  rather  too  idiomatic  for  the 
French  tongue,  and  it  becomes  "  I  haven't  run  after 
that  hare  "  ^  Je  rial  pas  chasst  ce  Itivre-la  ").  Per 
haps  the  most  sadly  amusing  thing  in  the  transla 
tion  is  the  way  the  meaning  of  the  nickname  Shocky 
is  missed  in  an  explanatory  foot-note.  It  is,  accord 
ing  to  the  translator,  an  abbreviation  or  corruption 
of  the  English  word  "  shocking,"  which  expresses 
the  shocking  ugliness  of  the  child — "  qui  exprime  la 
laideur  choquante  de  F  enfant" 

A  German  version  of  "  The  Hoosier  School-Mas 
ter  "  was  made  about  the  time  of  the  appearance 
of  the  French  translation,  but  of  this  I  have  never 
seen  a  copy.  I  know  of  it  only  from  the  statement 
made  to  me  by  a  German  professor,  that  he  had 
read  it  in  German  before  he  knew  any  English. 
What  are  the  equivalents  in  High  German  for 
"  right  smart "  and  "  dog-on  "  I  cannot  imagine. 

Several  years  after  the  publication  of  "The  Hoo 
sier  School-Master  "  it  occurred  to  Mr.  H.  Hansen,of 
Kjoge,  in  Denmark,  to  render  it  into  Danish.  Among 
the  Danes  the  book  enjoyed  a  popularity  as  great, 
perhaps,  as  it  has  had  at  home.  The  circulation 
warranted  Mr.  Hansen  and  his  publisher  in  bringing 
out  several  other  novels  of  mine.  The  Danish 
translator  was  the  only  person  concerned  in  the 


PREFACE  TO  THE  LIBRARY  EDITION.  I? 

various  foreign  editions  of  this  book  who  had  the 
courtesy  to  ask  the  author's  leave.  Under  the  old 
conditions  in  regard  to  international  copyright,  an 
author  came  to  be  regarded  as  one  not  entitled  even 
to  common  civilities  in  the  matter  of  reprinting  his 
works — he  was  to  be  plundered  without  politeness. 
As  I  look  at  the  row  of  my  books  in  the  unfamiliar 
Danish,  I  am  reminded  of  that  New  England  mother 
who,  on  recovering  her  children  carried  away  by  the 
Canadian  Indians,  found  it  impossible  to  communi 
cate  with  a  daughter  who  spoke  only  French  and  a 
son  who  knew  nothing  but  the  speech  of  his  savage 
captors.  Mr.  Hansen  was  thoughtful  enough  to 
send  me  the  reviews  of  my  books  in  the  Danish 
newspapers;  and  he  had  the  double  kindness  to 
translate  these  into  English  and  to  leave  out  all  but 
those  that  were  likely  to  be  agreeable  to  my  vanity. 
Of  these  I  remember  but  a  single  sentence,  and  that 
because  it  was  expressed  with  felicity.  The  re 
viewer  said  of  the  fun  in  "The  Hoosier  School- 
Master:"  "This  is  humor  laughing  to  keep  from 
bursting  into  tears." 

A  year  or  two  before  the  appearance  of "  The  Hoo 
sier  School-Master,"  a  newspaper  article  of  mine 
touching  upon  American  dialect  .interested  Mr.  Low 
ell,  and  he  urged  me  to  "  look  for  the  foreign  influ 
ence  "  that  has  affected  the  speech  of  the  Ohio  River 


1 8  PREFACE  TO   THE   LIBRARY   EDITION. 

country.  My  reverence  for  him  as  the  master  in  such 
studies  did  not  prevent  me  from  feeling  that  the 
suggestion  was  a  little  absurd.  But  at  a  later  period 
I  became  aware  that  North  Irishmen  used  many  of 
the  pronunciations  and  idioms  that  distinctly  char 
acterized  the  language  of  old-fashioned  people  on 
the  Ohio.  Many  Ulster  men  say  "  wair  "  for  were 
and  "  air  "  for  are,  for  example.  Connecting  this 
with  the  existence  of  a  considerable  element  of 
Scotch-Irish  names  in  the  Ohio  River  region,  I  could 
not  doubt  that  here  was  one  of  the  keys  the  master 
had  bidden  me  look  for.  While  pursuing  at  a  later 
period  a  series  of  investigations  into  the  culture- 
history  of  the  American  people  in  the  seventeenth 
and  eighteenth  centuries,  I  became  much  interested 
in  the  emigration  to  America  from  the  north  of  Ire 
land,  a  movement  that  waxed  and  waned  as  the 
great  Irish-linen  industry  of  the  last  century  declined 
or  prospered.  The  first  American  home  of  these 
Irish  was  Pennsylvania.  A  portion  of  them  were 
steady-going,  psalm-singing,  money-getting  people, 
who  in  course  of  time  made  themselves  felt  in  the 
commerce,  politics,  and  intellectual  life  of  the  na 
tion.  There  was  also  a  dare-devil  element,  de 
scended  perhaps  from  those  rude  borderers  who 
were  deported  to  Ireland  more  for  the  sake  of  the 
peace  of  North  Britain  than  for  the  benefit  of  Ire- 


PREFACE  TO   THE   LIBRARY   EDITION.  19 

land.  In  this  rougher  class  there  was  perhaps  a 
larger  dash  of  the  Celtic  fire  that  came  from  the 
wild  Irish  women  whom  the  first  Scotch  settlers  in 
Ulster  made  the  mothers  of  their  progeny.  Arrived 
in  the  wilds  of  Pennsylvania,  these  Irishmen  built 
rude  cabins,  planted  little  patches  of  corn  and  po 
tatoes,  and  distilled  a  whiskey  that  was  never  suf 
fered  to  grow  mellow.  The  forest  was  congenial 
to  men  who  spent  much  the  larger  part  of  their 
time  in  boisterous  sport  of  one  sort  or  another. 
The  manufacture  of  the  rifle  was  early  brought  to 
Lancaster,  in  Pennsylvania,  direct  from  the  land  of 
its  invention  by  Swiss  emigrants,  and  in  the  adven 
turous  Scotch-Irishman  of  the  Pennsylvania  frontier 
the  rifle  found  its  fellow.  Irish  settlers  became 
hunters  of  wild  beasts,  explorers,  pioneers,  and  war 
riors  against  the  Indians,  upon  whom  they  avenged 
their  wrongs  with  relentless  ferocity.  Both  the 
Irish  race  and  the  intermingled  Pennsylvania  Dutch 
were  prolific,  and  the  up-country  of  Pennsylvania 
soon  overflowed.  Emigration  was  held  in  check  to 
the  westward  for  a  while  by  the  cruel  massacres  of 
the  French  and  Indian  wars,  and  one  river  of  pop 
ulation  poured  itself  southward  into  the  fertile  val 
leys  of  the  Virginia  mountain  country;  another  and 
larger  flood  swept  still  farther  to  the  south  along 
the  eastern  borders  of  the  Appalachian  range  until 


20  PREFACE  TO  THE  LIBRARY  EDIT/ON. 

it  reached  the  uplands  of  Carolina.  When  the  mi 
litia  of  one  county  in  South  Carolina  was  mustered 
during  the  Revolution,  it  was  found  that  every  one 
of  the  thirty-five  hundred  men  enrolled  were  natives 
of  Pennsylvania.  These  were  mainly  sons  of  North 
Irishmen,  and  from  the  Carolina  Irish  sprang  Cal- 
houn,  the  most  aggressive  statesman  that  has  ap 
peared  in  America,  and  Jackson,  the  most  brilliant 
military  genius  in  the  whole  course  of  our  history. 
Before  the  close  of  the  Revolution  this  adventurous 
race  had  begun  to  break  over  the  passes  of  the  Al- 
leghanies  into  the  dark  and  bloody  ground  of  Ken 
tucky  and  Tennessee.  Soon  afterward  a  multitude 
of  Pennsylvanians  of  all  stocks — the  Scotch-Irish 
and  those  Germans,  Swiss,  and  Hollanders  who  are 
commonly  classed  together  as  the  Pennsylvania 
Dutch,  as  well  as  a  large  number  of  people  of  Eng 
lish  descent — began  to  migrate  down  the  Ohio  Val 
ley.  Along  with  them  came  professional  men  and 
people  of  more  or  less  culture,  chiefly  from  eastern 
Virginia  and  Maryland.  There  came  also  into  In 
diana  and  Illinois,  from  the  border  States  and  from 
as  far  south  as  North  Carolina  and  Tennessee,  a  body 
of  "poor  whites."  These  semi-nomadic  people, 
descendants  of  the  colonial  bond-servants,  formed, 
in  the  second  quarter  of  the  nineteenth  century,  the 
lowest  rank  of  Hoosiers.  But  as  early  as  1845  there 


PREFACE  TO  THE  LIBRARY  EDITION.  21 

was  a  considerable  exodus  of  these  to  Missouri. 
From  Pike  County,  in  that  State,  they  wended  their 
way  to  California,  to  appear  in  Mr.  Bret  Harte's 
stories  as  "  Pikes."  The  movement  of  this  class  out 
of  Indiana  went  on  with  augmented  volume  in  the 
fifties.  The  emigrants  of  this  period  mostly  sought 
the  States  lying  just  west  of  the  Mississippi,  and  the 
poorer  sort  made  the  trip  in  little  one-horse  wagons 
of  the  sorriest  description,  laden  mainly  with  white- 
headed  children  and  followed  by  the  yellow  curs 
that  are  the  one  luxury  indispensable  to  a  family  of 
this  class.  To  this  migration  and  to  a  liberal  pro 
vision  for  popular  education  Indiana  owes  a  great 
improvement  in  the  average  intelligence  of  her 
people.  As  early  as  1880,  I  believe,  the  State  had 
come  to  rank  with  some  of  the  New  England  States 
in  the  matter  of  literacy. 

The  folk-speech  of  the  Ohio  River  country  has 
many  features  in  common  with  that  of  the  eastern 
Middle  States,  while  it  received  but  little  from  the 
dignified  eighteenth-century  English  of  eastern  Vir 
ginia.  There  are  distinct  traces  of  the  North-Irish  in 
the  idioms  and  in  the  peculiar  pronunciations.  One 
finds  also  here  and  there  a  word  from  the  "  Penn 
sylvania  Dutch,"  such  as  "  waumus "  for  a  loose 
jacket,  from  the  German  wamms,  a  doublet,  and 
"  smearcase  "  for  cottage  cheese,  from  the  German 


22  PREFACE  TO  THE   LIBRARY   EDITION. 

schmierkdse.  The  only  French  word  left  by  the  old 
voyageurs,  so  far  as  I  now  remember,  is  "  cordelle," 
to  tow  a  boat  by  a  rope  carried  along  the  shore. 

Substantially  the  same  folk-speech  exists  wher 
ever  the  Pennsylvania  migration  formed  the  main 
element  of  the  primitive  settlement.  I  have  heard 
the  same  dialect  in  the  South  Carolina  uplands  that 
one  gets  from  a  Posey  County  Hoosier,  or  rather 
that  one  used  to  get  in  the  old  days  before  the  van 
dal  school-master  had  reduced  the  vulgar  tongue  to 
the  monotonous  propriety  of  what  we  call  good 
English. 

In  drawing  some  of  the  subordinate  characters  in 
this  tale  a  little  too  baldly  from  the  model,  I  fell 
into  an  error  common  to  inexperienced  writers.  It 
is  amusing  to  observe  that  these  portrait  characters 
seem  the  least  substantial  of  all  the  figures  in  the 
book.  Dr.  Small  is  a  rather  unrealistic  villain,  but 
I  knew  him  well  and  respected  him  in  my  boyish 
heart  for  a  most  exemplary  Christian  of  good  fam 
ily  at  the  very  time  that,  according  to  testimony 
afterward  given,  he  was  diversifying  his  pursuits  as 
a  practising  physician  by  leading  a  gang  of  burglars. 
More  than  one  person  has  been  pointed  out  as  the 
original  of  Bud  Means,  and  I  believe  there  are  one 
or  two  men  each  of  whom  flatters  himself  that  he 
posed  for  the  figure  of  the  first  disciple  of  the 


PREFACE  TO  THE   LIBRARY  EDITION.  23 

Church  of  the  Best  Licks.  Bud  is  made  up  of  ele 
ments  found  in  some  of  his  race,  but  not  in  any  one 
man.  Not  dreaming  that  the  story  would  reach 
beyond  the  small  circulation  of  Hearth  and  Home, 
I  used  the  names  of  people  in  Switzerland  and  Deca- 
tur  counties,  in  Indiana,  almost  without  being  aware 
of  it.  I  have  heard  that  a  young  man  bearing  the 
surname  given  to  one  of  the  rudest  families  in  this 
book  had  to  suffer  many  gibes  while  a  student  at  an 
Indiana  college.  I  here  do  public  penance  for  my 
culpable  indiscretion. 

"  Jeems  Phillips,"  name  and  all,  is  a  real  person 
whom  at  the  time  of  writing  this  story  I  had  not 
seen  since  I  was  a  lad  of  nine  and  he  a  man  of 
nearly  forty.  He  was  a  mere  memory  to  me,  and 
was  put  into  the  book  with  some  slighting  remarks 
which  the  real  Jeems  did  not  deserve.  I  did  not 
know  that  he  was  living,  and  it  did  not  seem  likely 
that  the  story  would  have  vitality  enough  to  travel 
all  the  way  to  Indiana.  But  the  portion  referring  to 
Phillips  was  transferred  to  the  county  paper  circu 
lating  among  Jeems'  neighbors.  For  once  the  good- 
natured  man  was,  as  they  say  in  Hoosier,  "  mad," 
and  he  threatened  to  thrash  the  editor.  "  Do  you 
think  he  means  you?"  demanded  the  editor.  "To 
be  sure  he  does,"  said  the  champion  speller.  "Can 
you  spell  ?  "  "I  can  spell  down  any  master  that  ever 


24  PREFACE  TO   THE  LIBRARY  EDITION. 

came  to  our  district,"  he  replied.  As  time  passed 
on,  Phillips  found  himself  a  lion.  Strangers  desired 
an  introduction  to  him  as  a  notability,  and  invited 
the  champion  to  dissipate  with  them  at  the  soda 
fountain  in  the  village  drug  store.  It  became  a 
matter  of  pride  with  him  that  he  was  the  most 
famous  speller  in  the  world.  Two  years  ago,  while 
visiting  the  town  of  my  nativity,  I  met  upon  the 
street  the  aged  Jeems  Phillips,  whom  I  had  not  seen 
for  more  than  forty  years.  I  would  go  far  to  hear 
him  "  spell  down  "  a  complacent  school-master  once 
more. 

The  publication  of  this  book  gave  rise  to  an  amus 
ing  revival  of  the  spelling-school  as  a  means  of 
public  entertainment,  not  in  rustic  regions  alone,  but 
in  towns  also.  The  furor  extended  to  the  great 
cities  of  New  York  and  London,  and  reached  at  last 
to  farthest  Australia,  spreading  to  every  region  in 
which  English  is  spelled  or  spoken.  But  the  effect 
of  the  chapter  on  the  spelling-school  was  temporary 
and  superficial;  the  only  organization  that  came 
from  the  spelling-school  mania,  so  far  as  I  know, 
was  an  association  of  proof-readers  in  London  to 
discuss  mooted  points.  The  sketch  of  the  Church 
of  the  Best  Licks,  however,  seems  to  have  made  a 
deep  and  enduring  impression  upon  individuals  and 
to  have  left  some  organized  results.  I  myself  endeav- 


PREFACE  TO  THE  LIBRARY  EDITION.  2$ 

ored  to  realize  it,  and  for  five  years  I  was  the  pastor 
of  a  church  in  Brooklyn,  organized  on  a  basis  almost 
as  simple  as  that  in  the  Flat  Creek  school-house. 
The  name  I  rendered  into  respectable  English,  and 

the  Church  of  the  Best  Licks  became  the  Church 
,  \ 

of  Christian  Endeavor.  It  was  highly  successful  in 
doing  that  which  a  church  ought  to  do,  and  its 
methods  of  work  have  been  widely  copied.  After 
my  work  as  a  minister  had  been  definitely  closed, 
the  name  and  the  underlying  thought  of  this  church 
were  borrowed  for  a  young  people's  society;  and 
thus  the  little  story  of  good  endeavor  in  Indiana 
seems  to  have  left  a  permanent  mark  on  the  eccle 
siastical  organization  of  the  time. 

If  any  one,  judging  by  the  length  of  this  preface, 
should  conclude  that  I  hold  my  little  book  in  undue 
esteem,  let  him  know  that  I  owe  it  more  than  one 
grudge.  It  is  said  that  Thomas  Campbell,  twenty 
years  after  the  appearance  of  his  best-known  poem, 
was  one  day  introduced  as  "  the  author  of  'The  Pleas 
ures  of  Hope.' "  "  Confound  '  The  Pleasures  of 
Hope,'  "  he  protested ;  "  can't  I  write  anything  else?  " 
So,  however  much  I  may  prefer  my  later  work,  more 
carefully  wrought  in  respect  of  thought,  structure, 
and  style,  this  initial  novel,  the  favorite  of  the 
larger  public,  has  become  inseparably  associated 
with  my  name.  Often  I  have  mentally  applied  Gamp* 


26  PREFACE  TO  THE  LIBRARY  EDITION. 

bell's  imprecation  on  "  The  Pleasures  of  Hope " 
to  this  story.  I  could  not  write  in  this  vein  now  if 
I  would,  and  twenty-one  years  have  made  so  many 
changes  in  me  that  I  dare  not  make  any  but  minor 
changes  in  this  novel.  The  author  of  "  The  Hoosier 
School-Master  "  is  distinctly  not  I ;  I  am  but  his  heir 
and  executor;  and  since  he  is  a  more  popular  writer 
than  I,  why  should  I  meddle  with  his  work  ?  I 
have,  however,  ventured  to  make  some  necessary 
revision  of  the  diction,  and  have  added  notes,  mostly 
with  reference  to  the  dialect. 

A  second  grudge  against  this  story  is  that  some 
how  its  readers  persist  in  believing  it  to  be  a  bit  of 
my  own  life.  Americans  are  credulous  believers  in 
that  miracle  of  the  imagination  whom  no  one  has 
ever  seen  in  the  flesh — the  self-made  man.  Some 
readers  of  "  The  Hoosier  School-Master  "  have  set 
tled  it  for  a  certainty  that  the  author  sprang  from  the 
rustic  class  he  has  described.  One  lady  even  wrote 
to  inquire  whether  my  childhood  were  not  repre 
sented  in  Shocky,  the  little  lad  out  of  the  poor- 
house.  A  biographical  sketch  of  me  in  Italian  goes 
so  far  as  to  state  that  among  the  hard  resorts  by 
which  I  made  a  living  in  my  early  life  was  the  teach 
ing  of  a  Sunday-school  in  Chicago. 

No  one  knows  so  well  as  I  the  faults  of  immatu 
rity  and  inexperience  that  characterize  this  book. 


PREFACE  TO  THE   LIBRARY   EDITION.  2? 

But  perhaps  after  all  the  public  is  right  in  so  often 
preferring  an  author's  first  book.  There  is  what 
Emerson  would  have  called  a  "  central  spontaneity  " 
about  the  work  of  a  young  man  that  may  give  more 
delight  to  the  reader  than  all  the  precision  of  thought 
and  perfection  of  style  for  which  we  strive  as  life 
advances. 

JOSHUA'S  ROCK  ON  LAKE  GEORGE,  1892, 


PART  OF  THE  PREFACE  TO  THE 
FIRST  EDITION. 


I  MAY  as  well  confess,  what  it  would  be  affecta 
tion  to  conceal,  that  I  am  more  than  pleased  with 
the  generous  reception  accorded  to  this  story  as  a 
serial  in  the  columns  of  Hearth  and  Home.  It  has 
been  in  my  mind  since  I  was  a  Hoosier  boy  to  do 
something  toward  describing  life  in  the  back-country 
districts  of  the  Western  States.  It  used  to  be  a 
matter  of  no  little  jealousy  with  us,  I  remember,  that 
the  manners,  customs,  thoughts,  and  feelings  of  New 
England  country  people  rilled  so  large  a  place  in 
books,  while  our  life,  not  less  interesting,  not  less 
romantic,  and  certainly  not  less  filled  with  humor 
ous  and  grotesque  material,  had  no  place  in  litera 
ture.  It  was  as  though  we  were  shut  out  of  good 
society.  And,  with  the  single  exception  of  Alice 
Gary,  perhaps,  our  Western  writers  did  not  dare 
speak  of  the  West  otherwise  than  as  the  unreal 
world  to  which  Cooper's  lively  imagination  had 

given  birth. 

29 


3O  PREFACE  TO  THE  FIRST  EDITION. 

I  had  some  anxiety  lest  Western  readers  should 
take  offence  at  my  selecting  what  must  always 
seem  an  exceptional  phase  of  life  to  those  who  have 
grown  up  in  the  more  refined  regions  of  the  West. 
But  nowhere  has  the  School-master  been  received 
more  kindly  than  in  his  own  country  and  among 
his  own  people. 

Some  of  those  who  have  spoken  generous  words  of 
the  School-master  and  his  friends  have  suggested 
that  the  story  is  an  autobiography.  But  it  is  not, 
save  in  the  sense  in  which  every  work  of  art  is  an 
autobiography:  in  that  it  is  the  result  of  the  expe 
rience  and  observation  of  the  writer.  Readers  will 
therefore  bear  in  mind  that  not  Ralph  nor  Bud  nor 
Brother  Sodom  nor  Dr.  Small  represents  the  writer, 
nor  do  I  appear,  as  Talleyrand  said  of  Madame  de 
Stael,  "  disguised  as  a  woman,"  in  the  person  of 
Hannah  or  Mirandy.  Some  of  the  incidents  have 
been  drawn  from  life;  none  of  them,  I  believe,  from 
my  own.  I  should  like  to  be  considered  a  member 
of  the  Church  of  the  Best  Licks,  however. 

It  has  been  in  my  mind  to  append  some  remarks, 
philological  and  otherwise,  upon  the  dialect,  but  Pro 
fessor  Lowell's  admirable  and  erudite  preface  to  the 
Biglow  Papers  must  be  the  despair  of  every  one 
who  aspires  to  write  on  Americanisms.  To  Mr. 
Lowell  belongs  the  distinction  of  being  the  only 


PREFACE  TO  THE  FlRSt    EDltlON.  3 1 

one  of  our  most  eminent  authors  and  the  only  one 
of  our  most  eminent  scholars  who  has  given  careful 
attention  to  American  dialects.  But  while  I  have 
not  ventured  to  discuss  the  provincialisms  of  the 
Indiana  backwoods,  I  have  been  careful  to  preserve 
the  true  usus  loquendi  of  each  locution 

BROOKLYN,  December,  1871. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

PAGE 

A  Private  Lesson  from  a  Bulldog 37 

CHAPTER  II. 
A  Spell  Coming 52 

CHAPTER  III. 
Mirandy,  Hank,  and  Shocky, 57 

CHAPTER  IV. 
Spelling  Down  the  Master 70 

CHAPTER  V. 
The  Walk  Home, .        90 

CHAPTER  VI. 
A  Night  at  Pete  Jones's, 97 

CHAPTER  VII. 
Ominous  Remarks  of  Mr.  Jones, 105 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
The  Struggle  in  the  Dark 109 

CHAPTER  IX. 
Has  God  Forgotten  Shocky  ? 114 

CHAPTER  X. 

The  Devil  of  Silence; 118 

3  33 


34  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XI. 

PAGE 

Miss  Martha  Hawkins, .125 

CHAPTER  XII. 
•  The  Hardshell  Preacher,        .  133 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
A  Struggle  for  the  Mastery 143 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
A  Crisis  with  Bud, 150 

CHAPTER  XV. 
The  Church  of  the  Best  Licks,        ,        .        .        .        .        .157 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
The  Church  Militant 163 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
A  Council  of  War, 169 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
Odds  and  Ends, 175 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
Face  to  Face 180 

CHAPTER  XX. 
God  Remembers  Shocky,        . 185 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
Miss  Nancy  Sawyer,      ........      192 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
Pancakes, 195 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
A  Charitable  Institution 203 


CONTENTS.  35 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

FAGK 

The  Good  Samaritan 212 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
Bud  Wooing, 215 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 
A  Letter  and  its  Consequences 220 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 
A  Loss  and  a  Gain 224 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
The  Flight .        .228 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 
The  Trial, 234 

CHAPTER  XXX. 
"  Brother  Sodom,"      j—^ 249 

CHAPTER  XXXI. 
The  Trial  Concluded, 254 

CHAPTER  XXXII. 
After  the  Battle,     . 369 

CHAPTER  XXXIII. 
Into  the  Light, .       274 

CHAPTER  XXXIV. 
"  How  it  Came  Out," 278 


By  F.  OFFER,  ALLEGRA  EGGLESTON 
and  W.  E.  B.  STARKWEATHER 


Portrait  of  Edward  Eggleston,  •          .        Frontispiece 

"The  Roan  Colt's  Best  Licks/'     >  .  .        page  186 

•Old  Jack  Means,"         .          >   •,'"»'.         •  •      "       42 

"Shocky,"     .           .          .           .    ;       .           .  "50 

"Betsy  Short"                .           .           .           .  .      •«       62 

"Hank  Banta's  Improved  Plunge  Bath,"             .  "       68 

"Squire  Hawkins,"        .           .           .           .  .      "       78 

"Mra  Means," "120 

"Captain  Pearson,"       .           .           .           .  .      "     130 

"Fire  and  Brimstone,"        .           .           •           •  "     148 

"6ud  Means  Comes  to  the  Eescue  of  Shocky,"  .      "     166 


The  Hoosier  School-Master. 


CHAPTER   I. 

A   PRIVATE   LESSON   FROM   A   BULLDOG. 

"  WANT  to  be  a  school-master,  do  you  ?  You  ? 
Well,  what  would  you  do  in  Flat  Crick  deestrick, 
Fd  like  to  know  ?  Why,  the  boys  have  driv  off  the 
last  two,  and  licked  the  one  afore  them  like  blazes. 
You  might  teach  a  summer  school,  when  nothin' 
but  children  come.  But  I  'low  it  takes  a  right  smart 
man  to  be  school-master  in  Flat  Crick  in  the  winter. 
They'd  pitch  you  out  of  doors,  sonny,  neck  and 
heels,  afore  Christmas." 

The  young  man,  who  had  walked  ten  miles  to  get 
the  school  in  this  district,  and  who  had  been  men 
tally  reviewing  his  learning  at  every  step  he  took, 
trembling  lest  the  committee  should  find  that  he 
did  not  know  enough,  was  not  a  little  taken  aback 
at  this  greeting  from  "  old  Jack  Means,"  who  was 
the  first  trustee  that  he  lighted  on.  The  impression 
made  by  these  ominous  remarks  was  emphasized 

37 


38  THE   HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

by  the  glances  which  he  received  from  Jack  Means's 
two  sons.  The  older  one  eyed  him  from  the  top 
of  his  brawny  shoulders  with  that  amiable  look 
which  a  big  dog  turns  on  a  little  one  before  shaking 
him.  Ralph  Hartsook  had  never  thought  of  being 
measured  by  the  standard  of  muscle.  This  notion 
of  beating  education  into  young  savages  in  spite  of 
themselves  dashed  his  ardor. 

He  had  walked  right  to  where  Jack  Means  was 
at  work  shaving  shingles  in  his  own  front  yard. 
While  Mr.  Means  was  making  the  speech  which  we 
have  set  down  above,  and  punctuating  it  with  ex 
pectorations,  a  large  brindle  bulldog  had  been  sniff 
ing  at  Ralph's  heels,  and  a  girl  in  a  new  linsey-wool 
sey  dress,  standing  by  the  door,  had  nearly  giggled 
her  head  off  at  the  delightful  prospect  of  seeing  a 
new  school-teacher  eaten  up  by  the  ferocious  brute. 

The  disheartening  words  of  the  old  man,  the  im 
mense  muscles  of  the  young  man  who  was  to  be  his 
rebellious  pupil,  the  jaws  of  the  ugly  bulldog,  and 
the  heartless  giggle  of  the  girl,  gave  Ralph  a  de 
lightful  sense  of  having  precipitated  himself  into  a 
den  of  wild  beasts.  Faint  with  weariness  and  dis 
couragement,  and  shivering  with  fear,  he  sat  down 
on  a  wheelbarrow. 

"You,  Bull!  "  said  the  old  man  to  the  dog,  which 
was  showing  more  and  more  a  disposition  to  make 


A  PRIVATE   LESSON  FROM   A   BULLDOG.          39 

a  meal  of  the  incipient  pedagogue,  "you,  Bull!  git 
aout,1  you  pup  !  "  The  dog  walked  sullenly  off,  but 
not  until  he  had  given  Ralph  a  look  full  of  promise 
of  what  he  meant  to  do  when  he  got  a  good  chance. 
Ralph  wished  himself  back  in  the  village  of  Lewis- 
burg,  whence  he  had  come. 

"You  see,"  continued  Mr.  Means,  spitting  in  a 
meditative  sort  of  a  way,  "  you  see,  we  a'n't  none 
of  your  saft  sort  in  these  diggin's.  It  takes  a  man 
to  boss  this  deestrick.  Howsumdever,  ef  you  think 
you  kin  trust  your  hide  in  Flat  Crick  school-house 
I  ha'n't  got  no  'bjection.  But  ef  you  git  licked, 
don't  come  on  us.  Flat  Crick  don't  pay  no  'nsur- 
ance,  you  bet !  Any  other  trustees  ?  Wai,  yes. 
But  as  I  pay  the  most  taxes,  t'others  jist  let  me 
run  the  thing.  You  can  begin  right  off  a  Monday. 
They  a'n't  been  no  other  applications.  You  see,  it 
takes  grit  to  apply  for  this  school.  The  last  master 
had  a  black  eye  for  a  month.  But,  as  I  wuz  sayin', 
you  can  jist  roll  up  a: id  wade  in.  I  'low  you've  got 
spunk,  maybe,  and  that  goes  for  a  heap  sight  more'n 
sinnoo  with  boys.  Walk  in,  and  stay  over  Sunday 
with  me.  You'll  hev'  to  board  roun',  and  I  guess 
you  better  begin  here." 

1  Aout  is  not  the  common  form  of  out,  as  it  is  in  certain  rustic  New 
England  regions.  The  vowel  is  here  drawn  in  this  way  for  impera 
tive  emphasis,  and  it  occurs  as  a  consequence  of  drawling  speech, 


4O  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

Ralph  did  not  go  in,  but  sat  out  on  the  wheel* 
barrow,  watching  the  old  man  shave  shingles,  while 
the  boys  split  the  blocks  and  chopped  wood.  Bull 
smelled  of  the  new-comer  again  in  an  ugly  way,  and 
got  a  good  kick  from  the  older  son  for  his  pains. 
But  out  of  one  of  his  red  eyes  the  dog  warned  the 
young  school-master  that  he  should  yet  suffer  for  all 
kicks  received  on  his  account. 

"Ef  Bull  once  takes  a  holt,  heaven  and  yarth  can't 
make  him  let  go/'  said  the  older  son  to  Ralph,  by 
way  of  comfort. 

It  was  well  for  Ralph  that  he  began  to  "  board 
roun' "  by  stopping  at  Mr.  Means's.  Ralph  felt 
that  Flat  Creek  was  what  he  needed.  He  had  lived 
a  bookish  life;  but  here  was  his  lesson  in  the  art 
of  managing  people,  for  he  who  can  manage  the 
untamed  and  strapping  youths  of  a  winter  school 
in  Hoopole  County  has  gone  far  toward  learning 
one  of  the  hardest  of  lessons.  And  in  Ralph's  time, 
things  were  worse  than  they  are  now.  The  older 
son  of  Mr.  Means  was  called  Bud  Means.  What  his 
real  name  was,  Ralph  could  not  find  out,  for  in  many 
of  these  families  the  nickname  of  "  Bud  "  given  to  the 
oldest  boy,  and  that  of  "  Sis,"  which  is  the  birth 
right  of  the  oldest  girl,  completely  bury  the  proper 
Christian  name.  Ralph  saw  his  first  strategic  point, 
which  was  to  capture  Bud  Means. 


A  PRIVATE  LESSON  FROM   A  BULLDOG.          41 

After  supper,  the  boys  began  to  get  ready  for 
something.  Bull  stuck  up  his  ears  in  a  dignified 
way,  and  the  three  or  four  yellow  curs  who  were 
Bull's  satellites  yelped  delightedly  and  discord 
antly. 

"  Bill,"  said  Bud  Means  to  his  brother,  "  ax  the 
master  ef  he'd  like  to  hunt  coons.  I'd  like  to  take 
the  starch  out  uv  the  stuck-up  feller." 

"  'Nough  said,"  '  was  Bill's  reply. 

"You  durn't2  do  it,"  said  Bud. 

"I  don't  take  no  sech  a  dare,"3  returned  Bill,  and 
walked  down  to  the  gate,  by  which  Ralph  stood 
watching  the  stars  come  out,  and  half  wishing  he 
had  never  seen  Flat  Creek. 

"  I  say,  mister,"  began  Bill,  "  mister,  they's  a  coon 
what's  been  a  eatin'  our  chickens  lately,  and  we're 

1  "  'Nough  said"  is  more  than  enough  said  for  the  French  trans 
lator,  who  takes  it  apparently  for  a  sort  of  barbarous  negative  and 
renders  it,  "I  don't  like  to  speak  to  him."  I  need  hardly  explain  to 
any  American  reader  that  enough  said  implies  the  ending  of  all  dis 
cussion  by  the  acceptance  of  the  proposition  or  challenge. 

a  Durn't,  daren't,  dasent,  dursent,  and  don't  dast  are  forms  of  this 
variable  negative  heard  in  the  folk-speech  of  various  parts  of  the  coun 
try.  The  tenses  of  this  verb  seem  to  have  got  hopelessly  mixed  long 
ago,  even  in  literary  use,  and  the  speech  of  the  people  reflects  the 
historic  confusion. 

3  To  take  a  dare  is  an  expression  used  in  senses  diametrically  op« 
posed.  Its  common  sense  is  that  of  the  text.  The  man  who  refuses 
to  accept  a  challenge  is  said  to  take  a  dare,  and  there  is  some  impli 
cation  of  cowardice  in  the  imputation.  On  the  other  hand,  one  who 
accepts  a  challenge  is  said  also  to  take  the  dare. 


42  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

goin'  to  try  to  ketch '  the  varmint.  You  wouldn't 
like  to  take  a  coon  hunt  nor  nothin',  would  you  ?  " 

"  Why,  yes,"  said  Ralph,  "  there's  nothing  I  should 
like  better,  if  I  could  only  be  sure  Bull  wouldn't 
mistake  me  for  the  coon." 

And  so,  as  a  matter  of  policy,  Ralph  dragged  his 
tired  legs  eight  or  ten  miles,  on  hill  and  in  hollow, 
after  Bud,  and  Bill,  and  Bull,  and  the  coon.  But 
the  raccoon3  climbed  a  tree.  The  boys  got  into  a 
quarrel  about  whose  business  it  was  to  have  brought 
the  axe,  and  who  was  to  blame  that  the  tree  could 
not  be  felled.  Now,  if  there  was  anything  Ralph's 
muscles  were  good  for,  it  was  climbing.  So,  asking 
Bud  to  give  him  a  start,  he  soon  reached  the  limb 
above  the  one  on  which  the  raccoon  was.  Ralph 
did  not  know  how  ugly  a  customer  a  raccoon  can 

1  Most  bad  English  was  once  good  English.  Ketch  was  used  by 
writers  of  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries  for  catch.  A  New 
Hampshire  magistrate  in  the  seventeenth  century  spells  it  caitch,  and 
probably  pronounced  it  in  that  way.  Ketch,  a  boat,  was  sometimes 
spelled  catch  by  the  first  American  colonists,  and  the  far-fetched 
derivation  of  the  word  from  the  Turkish  may  be  one  of  the  fancies 
of  etymologists. 

*  The  derivation  of  raccoon  from  the  French  raton,  to  which  Mr. 
Skeat  gives  currency,  still  holds  its  place  in  some  of  our  standard  dic- 
•ionaries.  If  American  lexicographers  would  only  read  the  literature 
of  American  settlement  they  would  know  that  Mr.  Skeat's  citation 
of  a  translation  of  Buffon  is  nearly  two  centuries  too  late.  As  early 
as  1612  Captain  John  Smith  gives  arotighcune  as  the  aboriginal  Vir 
ginia  word,  and  more  than  one  New  England  writer  used  rackoon  a 
few  years  later. 


OLD  JACK  MEANS 


A   PRIVATE   LESSON   FROM   A   BULLDOG.  43 

be,  and  so  got  credit  for  more  courage  than  he  had. 
With  much  peril  to  his  legs  from  the  raccoon's  teeth, 
he  succeeded  in  shaking  the  poor  creature  off  among 
the  yelping  brutes  and  yelling  boys.  Ralph  could 
not  help  sympathizing  with  the  hunted  animal,  which 
sold  its  life  as  dearly  as  possible,  giving  the  dogs 
many  a  scratch  and  bite.  It  seemed  to  him  that  he 
was  like  the  raccoon,  precipitated  into  the  midst  of 
a  party  of  dogs  who  would  rejoice  in  worrying  his 
life  out,  as  Bull  and  his  crowd  were  destroying  the 
poor  raccoon.  When  Bull  at  last  seized  the  raccoon 
and  put  an  end  to  it,  Ralph  could  not  but  admire 
the  decided  way  in  which  he  did  it,  calling  to  mind 
Bud's  comment,  "  Ef  Bull  once  takes  a  holt,  heaven 
and  yarth1  can't  make  him  let  go." 

But  as  they  walked  home,  Bud  carrying  the  rac 
coon  by  the  tail,  Ralph  felt  that  his  hunt  had  not 
been  in  vain.  He  fancied  that  even  red-eyed  Bull, 


1  This  prefixed  y  is  a  mark  of  a  very  illiterate  or  antique  form  of  the 
dialect.  I  have  known  piece  yarthen  used  for  "  a  piece  of  earthen  " 
[ware],  the  preposition  getting  lost  in  the  sound  of  the  y.  I  leave  it 
to  etymologists  to  determine  its  relation  to  that  ancient  prefix  that 
differentiates  earn  in  one  sense  from  yearn.  But  the  article  before  a 
vowel  may  account  for  it  if  we  consider  it  a  corruption.  "  The  earth  " 
pronounced  in  a  drawling  way  will  produce  the  yearth.  In  the  New- 
York  Documents  is  a  letter  from  one  Barnard  Hodges,  a  settler  in 
Delaware  in  the  days  of  Governor  Andros,  whose  spelling  indicates  a 
free  use  of  the  parasitic  y.  Rewrites  "  yunless,"  "  yeunder  "  (under), 
"  yunderstanding,"  "  yeundertake,"  and  "yeouffeis"  (office). 


44  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

walking  uncomfortably  close  to  his  heels,  respected 
him  more  since  he  had  climbed  that  tree. 

"  Purty  peart  kind  of  a  master,"  remarked  the  old 
man  to  Bud,  after  Ralph  had  gone  to  bed.  "  Guess 
you  better  be  a  little  easy  on  him.  Hey  ?  " 

But  Bud  deigned  no  reply.  Perhaps  because  he 
knew  that  Ralph  heard  the  conversation  through 
the  thin  partition. 

Ralph  woke  delighted  to  find  it  raining.  He  did 
not  want  to  hunt  or  fish  on  Sunday,  and  this  steady 
rain  would  enable  him  to  make  friends  with  Bud. 
I  do  not  know  how  he  got  started,  but  after  break 
fast  he  began  to  tell  stones.  Out  of  all  the  books 
he  had  ever  read  he  told  story  after  story.  And 
"  old  man  Means,"  and  "  old  Miss  Means,"  and  Bud 
Means,  and  Bill  Means,  and  Sis  Means  listened 
with  great  eyes  while  he  told  of  Sinbad's  adventures, 
of  the  Old  Man  of  the  Sea,  of  Robinson  Crusoe,  of 
Captain  Gulliver's  experiences  in  Liliput,  and  of 
Baron  Munchausen's  exploits. 

Ralph  had  caught  his  fish.  The  hungry  minds 
of  these  backwoods  people  were  refreshed  with  the 
new  life  that  came  to  their  imaginations  in  these 
stories.  For  there  was  but  one  book  in  the  Means 
library,  and  that,  a  well-thumbed  copy  of  "  Cap 
tain  Riley's  Narrative,"  had  long  since  lost  all 
freshness. 


A  PRIVATE  LESSON  FROM  A  BULLDOG.  45 

"I'll  be  dog-on'd,'"  said  Bill,  emphatically,  "ef  I 
hadn't  'ruther  hear  the  master  tell  them  whoppin' 
yarns  than  to  go  to  a  circus  the  best  day  I  ever  seed !  " 
Bill  could  pay  no  higher  compliment. 

What  Ralph  wanted  was  to  make  a  friend  of  Bud. 

*  Like  many  of  the  ear-marks  of  this  dialect,  the  verb  "  dog-on  " 
came  from  Scotland,  presumably  by  the  way  of  the  north  of  Ireland. 
A  correspondent  of  The  Nation  calls  attention  to  the  use  of  "  dagon  " 
as  Scotch  dialect  in  Barrie's  "  Little  Minister,"  a  recent  book.  On 
examining  that  story,  I  find  that  the  word  has  precisely  the  sense 
of  our  Hoosier  "dog-on,"  which  is  to  be  pronounced  broadly  as  a 
Hoosier  pronounces  dog — "  daug-on."  If  Mr.  Barrie  gives  his  a  the 
broad  sound,  his  "  dagon"  is  nearly  identical  with  "dog-on."  Here 
are  some  detached  sentences  from  "  The  Little  Minister  :" 

"  Beattie  spoke  for  more  than  himself  when  he  said:  '  Dagon  that 
Manse!  I  never  gie  a  swear  but  there  it  is  glowering  at  me.'  " 

"  '  Dagon  religion,'  Rob  retorted  fiercely  ;  '  't  spoils  a'  thing.'" 

"  There  was  some  angry  muttering  from  the  crowd,  and  young 
Charles  Yuill  exclaimed,  '  Dagon  you,  would  you  lord  it  ower  us  on 
week-days  as  well  as  on  Sabbaths  ?"  " 

'  '  Have  you  on  your  Sabbath  shoon  or  have  you  no  on  your  Sab. 
bath  shoon?'  '  Guid  care  you  took  I  should  ha'e  the  dagont  things 
on  !'  retorted  the  farmer." 

It  will  be  seen  that  "  dagont,"  as  used  above,  is  the  Scotch  form  of 
"dog-oned."  But  Mr.  Barrie  uses  the  same  form  apparently  for 
"  dog-on  it  "  in  the  following  passage : 

"  Ay,  there  was  Ruth  when  she  was  na  wanted,  but  Ezra,  dagont, 
it  looked  as  if  Ezra  had  jumped  clean  out  o*  the  Bible  !  " 

Strangely  enough,  this  word  as  a  verb  is  not  to  be  found  in  Jamie- 
son's  dictionary  of  the  Scottish  dialect,  but  Jamieson  gives  "  dugon" 
as  a  noun.  It  is  given  in  the  supplement  to  Jamieson,  however,  as 
"  dogon,"  but  still  as  a  noun,  with  an  ancient  plural  dogonis.  It  is 
explained  as  "  a  term  of  contempt."  The  example  cited  by  Jamie- 
son  is  Hogg's  "  Winter  Tales,"  i.  292,  and  is  as  follows : 

"  What  wad  my  father  say  if  I  were  to  marry  a  man  that  loot  him- 
sel'  be  thrashed  by  Tommy  Pptts,  a  great  supple  wi'  a  back  nae  stiffer 


46  THE   HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

It's  a  nice  thing  to  have  the  seventy-four-gun  ship 
on  your  own  side,  and  the  more  Hartsook  admired 
the  knotted  muscles  of  Bud  Means  the  more  he  de 
sired  to  attach  him  to  himself.  So,  whenever  he 
struck  out  a  peculiarly  brilliant  passage,  he  anxiously 
watched  Bud's  eye.  But  the  young  Philistine  kept 
his  own  counsel.  He  listened,  but  said  nothing,  and 
the  eyes  under  his  shaggy  brows  gave  no  sign.  Ralph 
could  not  tell  whether  those  eyes  were  deep  and 
inscrutable  or  only  stolid.  Perhaps  a  little  of  both. 
When  Monday  morning  came,  Ralph  was  nervous. 
He  walked  to  school  with  Bud. 

than  a  willy  brand  ?  .  .  .  When  one  comes  to  close  quarters  wi'  him 
he's  but  a  dugon." 

Halliwell  and  Wright  give  dogon  as  a  noun,  and  mark  it  Anglo- 
Norman,  but  they  apparently  know  it  only  from  Jamieson  and  the 
supplement  to  Jamieson,  where  dogguin  is  cited  from  Cotgrave  as 
meaning  "  a  filthie  old  curre,"  and  doguin  from  Roquefort,  denned 
by  "  brutal,  currish  "  [hargneux].  A  word  with  the  same  orthog 
raphy,  doguin,  is  still  used  in  French  for  puppy.  It  is  of  course  a 
question  whether  the  noun  dogon  and  its  French  antecedents  are  con 
nected  with  the  American  verb  dog-on.  It  is  easy  to  conceive  that 
such  an  epithet  as  dogon  might  get  itself  mixed  up  with  the  word  dog, 
and  so  become  an  imprecation.  For  instance,  a  servant  in  the  family 
of  a  friend  of  mine  in  Indiana,  wishing  to  resign  her  place  before  the 
retuin  of  some  daughters  of  the  house  whom  she  had  never  seen,  an 
nounced  that  she  was  going  to  leave  "  before  them  dog-on  girls  got 
home."  Here  the  word  might  have  been  the  old  epithet,  or  an  ab 
breviated  participle.  Dogged  is  apparently  a  corruption  of  dog-on  in 
the  phrase  "  I'll  be  dogged."  I  prefer  dog-on  to  dogone,  because  in 
the  dialect  the  sense  of  setting  a  doo-  on  is  frequently  present  to  the 
speaker,  though  far  enough  away  from  t!ie  primitive  sense  of  the 
word,  perhaps. 


A  PRIVATE   LESSON  FROM   A  BULLDOG.          4/ 

"  I  guess  you're  a  little  skeered  by  what  the  old 
man  said,  a'n't  you  ?  " 

Ralph  was  about  to  deny  it,  but  on  reflection  con 
cluded  that  it  was  best  to  speak  the  truth.  He  said 
that  Mr!  Means's  description  of  the  school  had  made 
him  feel  a  little  down-hearted. 

"  What  will  you  do  with  the  tough  boys  ?  You 
a'n't  no  match  for  'em."  And  Ralph  felt  Bud's 
eyes  not  only  measuring  his  muscles,  but  scrutiniz 
ing  his  countenance.  He  only  answered: 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  What  would  you  do  with  me,  for  instance  ? " 
and  Bud  stretched  himself  up  as  if  to  shake  out  the 
reserve  power  coiled  up  in  his  great  muscles. 

"  I  sha'n't  have  any  trouble  with  you." 

"  Why,  I'm  the  wust  chap  of  all.  I  thrashed  the 
last  master,  myself." 

And  again  the  eyes  of  Bud  Means  looked  out 
sharply  from  his  shadowing  brows  to  see  the  effect 
of  this  speech  on  the  slender  young  man. 

"You  won't  thrash  me,  though,"  said  Ralph. 

"  Pshaw!  I  'low  I  could  whip  you  in  an  inch  of 
your  life  with  my  left  hand,  and  never  half  try,"  said 
young  Means,  with  a  threatening  sneer. 

"  I  know  that  as  well  as  you  do." 

"  Well,  a'n't  you  afraid  of  me,  then  ?  "  and  again 
he  looked  sidewise  at  Ralph. 


48  THE   IIOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

"  Not  a  bit,"  said  Ralph,  wondering  at  his  own 
courage. 

They  walked  on  in  silence  a  minute.  Bud  was 
turning  the  matter  over. 

"  Why  a'n't  you  afraid  of  me  ?  "  he  said  presently. 

"  Because  you  and  I  are  going  to  be  friends." 

"  And  what  about  t'others  ?  " 

"  I  am  not  afraid  of  all  the  other  boys  put  to 
gether." 

"  You  a'n't !     The  mischief !     How's  that  ?  " 

"  Well,  I'm  not  afraid  of  them  because  you  and 
I  are  going  to  be  friends,  and  you  can  whip  all  of 
them  together.  You'll  do  the  righting  and  I'll  do 
the  teaching." 

The  diplomatic  Bud  only  chuckled  a  little  at  this; 
whether  he  assented  to  the  alliance  or  not  Ralph 
could  not  tell. 

When  Ralph  looked  round  on  the  faces  of  the 
scholars — the  little  faces  full  of  mischief  and  curios 
ity,  the  big  faces  full  of  an  expression  which  was  not 
further  removed  than  second-cousin  from  contempt 
— when  young  Hartsook  looked  into  these  faces,  his 
heart  palpitated  with  stage-fright.  There  is  no  au 
dience  so  hard  to  face  as  one  of  school-children,  as 
many  a  man  has  found  to  his  cost.  Perhaps  it  is 
that  no  conventional  restraint  can  keep  down  their 
laughter  when  you  do  or  say  anything  ridiculous. 


A  PRIVATE  LESSON  FROM   A  BULLDOG.          49 

Hartsook's  first  day  was  hurried  and  unsatisfac 
tory.  He  was  not  master  of  himself,  and  conse 
quently  not  master  of  anybody  else.  When  even 
ing  came,  there  were  symptoms  of  insubordination 
through  the  whole  school.  Poor  Ralph  was  sick  at 
heart.  He  felt  that  if  there  had  ever  been  the 
shadow  of  an  alliance  between  himself  and  Bud,  it 
was  all  "off"  now.  It  seemed  to  Hartsook  that 
even  Bull  had  lost  his  respect  for  the  teacher. 
Half  that  night  the  young  man  lay  awake.  At  last 
comfort  came  to  him.  A  reminiscence  of  the  death 
of  the  raccoon  flashed  on  him  like  a  vision.  He 
remembered  that  quiet  and  annihilating  bite  which 
Bull  gave.  He  remembered  Bud's  certificate,  that 
"  Ef  Bull  once  takes  a  holt,  heaven  and  yarth  can't 
make  him  let  go."  He  thought  that  what  Flat 
Creek  needed  was  a  bulldog.  He  would  be  a  bull 
dog,  quiet,  but  invincible.  He  would  take  hold  in 
such  a  way  that  nothing  should  make  him  let  go. 
And  then  he  went  to  sleep. 

In  the  morning  Ralph  got  out  of  bed  slowly.  He 
put  his  clothes  on  slowly.  He  pulled  on  his  boots  in 
a  bulldog  mood.  He  tried  to  move  as  he  thought 
Bull  would  move  if  he  were  a  man.  He  ate  with 
deliberation,  and  looked  everybody  in  the  eyes  with 
a  manner  that  made  Bud  watch  him  curiously.  He 
found  himself  continually  comparing  himself  with 


JO  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

Bull.  He  found  Bull  possessing  a  strange  fascina 
tion  fo;  him.  He  walked  to  school  alone,  the  rest 
having  gone  on  before.  He  entered  the  school 
room  preserving  a  cool  and  dogged  manner.  He 
saw  in  the  eyes  of  the  boys  that  there  was  mischief 
brewing.  He  did  not  dare  sit  down  in  his  chair  for 
fear  of  a  pin.  Everybody  looked  solemn.  Ralph 
lifted  the  lid  of  his  desk.  "  Bow-wow !  wow-wow !  " 
It  was  the  voice  of  an  imprisoned  puppy,  and  the 
school  giggled  and  then  roared.  Then  everything 
was  quiet. 

The  scholars  expected  an  outburst  of  wrath  from 
the  teacher.  For  they  had  come  to  regard  the 
whole  world  as  divided  into  two  classes,  the  teacher 
on  the  one  side  representing  lawful  authority,  and 
the  pupils  on  the  other  in  a  state  of  chronic  re 
bellion.  To  play  a  trick  on  the  master  was  an 
evidence  of  spirit;  to  "lick"  the  master  was  to 
be  the  crowned  hero  of  Flat  Creek  district.  Such 
a  'hero  was  Bud  Means ;  and  Bill,  who  had  less 
muscle,  saw  a  chance  to  distinguish  himself  on  a 
teacher  of  slender  frame.  Hence  the  puppy  in  the 
desk. 

Ralph  Hartsook  grew  red  in  the  face  when  he 
saw  the  puppy.  But  the  cool,  repressed,  bulldog 
mood  in  which  he  had  kept  himself  saved  him.  He 
lifted  the  dog  into  his  arms  and  stroked  him  until 


A  PRIVATE  LESSON  FROM   A  BULLDOG.  51 

the  laughter  subsided.  Then,  in  a  solemn  and  set 
way,  he  began : 

"  I  am  sorry,"  and  he  looked  round  the  room 
with  a  steady,  hard  eye — everybody  felt  that  there 
was  a  conflict  coming — "  I  am  sorry  that  any  scholar 
in  this  school  could  be  so  mean  " — the  word  was 
uttered  with  a  sharp  emphasis,  and  all  the  big  boys 
felt  sure  that  there  would  be  a  fight  with  Bill  Means, 
and  perhaps  with  Bud — "  could  be  so  mean — as  to 
— shut  up  his  brother  in  such  a  place  as  that !  " 

There  was  a  long,  derisive  laugh.  The  wit  was 
indifferent,  but  by  one  stroke  Ralph  had  carried 
the  whole  school  to  his  side.  By  the  significant 
glances  of  the  boys,  Hartsook  detected  the  perpe 
trator  of  the  joke,  and  with  the  hard  and  dogged 
look  in  his  eyes,  with  just  such  a  look  as  Bull  would 
give  a  puppy,  but  with  the  utmost  suavity  in  his 
voice,  he  said : 

"  William  Means,  will  you  be  so  good  as  to  put 
this  dog  out  of  doors  ?  " 


CHAPTER   II. 

A    SPELL    COMING. 

THERE  was  a  moment  of  utter  stillness;  but  the 
magnetism  of  Ralph's  eye  was  too  much  for  Bill 
Means.  The  request  was  so  polite,  the  master's 
look  was  so  innocent  and  yet  so  determined.  Bill 
often  wondered  afterward  that  he  had  not  "  fit " 
rather  than  obeyed  the  request.  But  somehow  he 
put  the  dog  out.  He  was  partly  surprised,  partly 
inveigled,  partly  awed  into  doing  just  what  he  had 
not  intended  to  do.  In  the  week  that  followed, 
Bill  had  to  fight  half  a  dozen  boys  for  calling  him 
"Puppy  Means."  Bill  said  he  wished  he'd  licked 
the  master  on  the  spot.  'Twould  'a'  saved  five  fights 
out  of  the  six. 

And  all  that  day  and  the  next,  the  bulldog  in 
the  master's  eye  was  a  terror  to  evil-doers.  At  the 
close  of  school  on  the  second  day  Bud  was  heard 
to  give  it  as  his  opinion  that  "  the  master  wouldn't 
be  much  in  a  tussle,  but  he  had  a  heap  of  thunder 
and  lightning  in  him." 

Did   he   inflict    corporal   punishment  ?    inquires 
52 


A  SPELL  COMING.  53 

some  philanthropic  friend.  Would  you  inflict  cor 
poral  punishment  if  you  were  tiger-trainer  in  Van 
Amburgh's  happy  family  ?  But  poor  Ralph  could 
never  satisfy  his  constituency  in  this  regard. 

"  Don't  believe  he'll  do,"  was  Mr.  Pete  Jones's 
comment  to  Mr.  Means.  "  Don't  thrash  enough. 
Boys  won't  1'arn  'less  you  thrash  'em,  says  I. 
Leastways,  mine  won't.  Lay  it  on  good  is  what  I 
says  to  a  master.  Lay  it  on  good.  Don't  do  no 
harm.  Lickin'  and  1'arnin'  goes  together.  No 
lickin',  no  1'arnin',  says  I.  Lickin'  and  1'arnin,'  lickin' 
and  larnin',  is  the  good  ole  way." 

And  Mr.  Jones,  like  some  wiser  people,  was  the 
more  pleased  with  his  formula  that  it  had  an  allitera 
tive  sound.  Nevertheless,  Ralph  was  master  from 
this  time  until  the  spelling-school  came.  If  only 
it  had  not  been  for  that  spelling-school !  Many  and 
many  a  time  after  the  night  of  the  fatal  spelling- 
school  Ralph  used  to  say,  "  If  only  it  had  not  been 
for  that  spelling-school! " 

There  had  to  be  a  spelling-school.  Not  only  for 
the  sake  of  my  story,  which  would  not  have  been 
worth  the  telling  if  the  spelling-school  had  not 
taken  place,  but  because  Flat  Creek  district  had  to 
have  a  spelling-school.  It  is  the  only  public  literary 
exercise  known  in  Hoopole  County.  It  takes  the 
place  of  lyceum  lecture  and  debating  club.  Sis 


54  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

Means,  or,  as  she  wished  now  to  be  called,  Mirandy 
Means,  expressed  herself  most  positively  in  favor 
of  it.  She  said  that  she  'lowed  the  folks  in  that 
district  couldn't  in  no  wise  do  without  it.  But  it 
was  rather  to  its  social  than  to  its  intellectual  bene 
fits  that  she  referred.  For  all  the  spelling-schools 
ever  seen  could  not  enable  her  to  stand  anywhere 
but  at  the  foot  of  the  class.  There  is  one  branch 
diligently  taught  in  a  backwoods  school.  The  pub 
lic  mind  seems  impressed  with  the  difficulties  of 
English  orthography,  and  there  is  a  solemn  convic 
tion  that  the  chief  end  of  man  is  to  learn  to  spell. 
" '  Know  Webster's  Elementary '  came  down  from 
Heaven,"  would  be  the  backwoods  version  of  the 
Greek  saying  but  that,  unfortunately  for  the  Greeks, 
their  fame  has  not  reached  so  far.  It  often  happens 
that  the  pupil  does  not  know  the  meaning  of  a 
single  word  in  the  lesson.  This  is  of  no  conse 
quence.  What  do  you  want  to  know  the  meaning 
of  a  word  for  ?  Words  were  made  to  be  spelled, 
and  men  were  probably  created  that  they  might 
spell  them.  Hence  the  necessity  for  sending  a 
pupil  through  the  spelling-book  five  times  before 
you  allow  him  to  begin  to  read,  or  indeed  to  do 
anything  else.  Hence  the  necessity  for  those  long 
spelling-classes  at  the  close  of  each  forenoon  and 
afternoon  session  of  the  school,  to  stand  at  the 


A  SPELL  COMING.  55 

head  of  which  is  the  cherished  ambition  of  every 
scholar.  Hence,  too,  the  necessity  for  devoting  the 
whole  of  the  afternoon  session  of  each  Friday  to  a 
"spelling-match."  In  fact,  spelling  is  the  "na 
tional  game "  in  Hoopole  County.  Baseball  and 
croquet  matches  are  as  unknown  as  Olympian 
chariot-races.  Spelling  and  shucking1  are  the  only 
public  competitions. 

1  In  naming-  the  several  parts  of  the  Indian  corn  and  the  dishes 
made  from  it,  the  English  language  was  put  to  many  shifts.  Such 
words  as  tassel  and  silk  were  poetically  applied  to  the  blossoms  ; 
stalk,  blade,  and  ear  were  borrowed  from  other  sorts  of  corn,  and  the 
Indian  tongues  were  forced  to  pay  tribute  to  name  the  dishes  bor 
rowed  from  the  savages.  From  them  we  have  hominy,  pone,  supawn, 
and  succotash.  For  other  nouns  words  were  borrowed  from  English 
provincial  dialects.  Shuck  is  one  of  these.  On  the  northern  belt, 
shucks  are  the  outer  covering  of  nuts  ;  in  the  middle  and  southern 
regions  the  word  is  applied  to  what  in  New  England  is  called  the 
husks  of  the  corn.  Shuck,  however,  is  much  more  widely  used  than 
husk  in  colloquial  speech — the  farmers  in  more  than  half  of  the 
United  States  are  hardly  acquainted  with  the  word  husk  as  applied  to 
the  envelope  of  the  ear.  Husk,  in  the  Middle  States,  and  in  some 
parts  of  the  South  and  West,  means  the  bran  of  the  cornmeal,  as 
notably  in  Davy  Crockett's  verse  : 

"  She  sifted  the  meal,  she  gimme  the  bus'; 

She  baked  the  bread,  she  gimme  the  eras'; 

She  b'iled  the  meat,  she  gimme  the  bone  ; 

She  gimme  a  kick  and  sent  me  home." 

In  parts  of  Virginia,  before  the  war,  the  word  husk  or  hus"  meant 
the  cob  or  spike  of  the  corn.  "  I  smack  you  over  wid  a  cawn-hus'  " 
is  a  threat  I  have  often  heard  one  negro  boy  make  to  another.  Cob 
is  provincial  English  for  ear,  and  I  have  known  "a  cob  of  corn" 
used  in  Canada  for  an  ear  of  Indian  corn.  While  writing  this  note 
"  a  cob  of  Indian  corn  " — meaning  an  ear — appears  in  the  report  of 


56  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

So  the  fatal  spelling-school  had  to  be  appointed 
for  the  Wednesday  of  the  second  week  of  the  ses 
sion,  just  when  Ralph  felt  himself  master  of  the 
situation.  Not  that  he  was  without  his  annoy 
ances.  One  of  Ralph's  troubles  in  the  week  before 
the  spelling-school  was  that  he  was  loved.  The 
other  that  he  was  hated.  And  while  the  time  be 
tween  the  appointing  of  the  spelling  tournament 
and  the  actual  occurrence  of  that  remarkable  event 
is  engaged  in  elapsing,  let  me  narrate  two  incidents 
that  made  it  for  Ralph  a  trying  time. 

an  address  by  a  distinguished  man  at  a  recent  meeting  of  the  Royal 
Geographical  Society.  A  lady  tells  me  that  she  met,  in  the  book  of 
an  English  traveller,  the  remarkable  statement  that  "  the  Americans 
are  very  fond  of  the  young  grain  called  cob."  These  Indian-corn 
words  have  reached  an  accepted  meaning  after  a  competition.  To 
shell  corn,  among  the  earliest  settlers  of  Virginia,  meant  to  take  it  out 
of  the  envelope,  which  was  presumably  called  the  shell. 
is  with  the  shelling  of  pulse. 


CHAPTER   III. 

MIRANDY,   HANK,   AND  SHOCKY. 

MlRANDY  had  nothing  but  contempt  for  the  new 
master  until  he  developed  the  bulldog  in  his  char 
acter.  Mirandy  fell  in  love  with  the  bulldog.  Like 
many  other  girls  of  her  class,  she  was  greatly  enam 
ored  with  the  "  subjection  of  women,"  and  she  stood 
ready  to  fall  in  love  with  any  man  strong  enough 
to  be  her  master.  Much  has  been  said  of  the 
strong-rrinded  woman.  I  offer  this  psychological 
remark  as  a  contribution  to  the  natural  history  of 
the  weak-minded  woman. 

It  was  at  the  close  of  that  very  second  day  on 
which  Ralph  had  achieved  his  first  victory  over  the 
school,  and  in  which  Mirandy  had  been  seized  with 
her  desperate  passion  for  him,  that  she  told  him 
about  it.  Not  in  words.  We  do  not  allow  that  in 
the  most  civilized  countries,  and  still  less  would  it 
be  tolerated  in  Hoopole  County.  But  Mirandy 
told  the  master  the  fact  that  she  was  in  love  with 
him,  though  no  word  passed  her  lips.  She  walked 
by  him  from  school.  She  cast  at  him  what  are 
commonly  called  sheep's-eyes.  Ralph  thought  them 

57 


58  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOLMASTER. 

more  like  calf's  eyes.  She  changed  the  whole  tone 
of  her  voice.  She  whined  ordinarily.  Now  she 
whimpered.  And  so  by  ogling  him,  by  blushing  at 
him,  by  tittering  at  him,  by  giggling  at  him,  by 
snickering  at  him,  by  simpering  at  him,  by  making 
herself  tenfold  more  a  fool  even  than  nature  had 
made  her,  she  managed  to  convey  to  the  dismayed 
soul  of  the  young  teacher  the  frightful  intelligence 
that  he  was  loved  by  the  richest,  the  ugliest,  the 
silliest,  the  coarsest,  and  the  most  entirely  contemp 
tible  girl  in  Flat  Creek  district. 

Ralph  sat  by  the  fire  the  next  morning  trying  to 
read  a  few  minutes  before  school-time,  while  the 
boys  were  doing  the  chores  and  the  bound  girl  was 
milking  the  cows,  with  no  one  in  the  room  but  the 
old  woman.  She  was  generally  as  silent  as  Bud, 
but  now  she  seemed  for  some  unaccountable  reason 
disposed  to  talk.  She  had  sat  down  on  the  broad 
hearth  to  have  her  usual  morning  smoke;  the  poplar 
table,  adorned  by  no  cloth,  stood  in  the  middle  of 
the  floor;  the  unwashed  blue  teacups  sat  in  the  un 
washed  blue  saucers  ;  the  unwashed  blue  plates  kept 
company  with  the  begrimed  blue  pitcher.  The  dirty 
skillets  by  the  fire  were  kept  in  countenance  by  the 
dirtier  pots,  and  the  ashes  were  drifted  and  strewn 
over  the  hearth-stones  in  a  most  picturesque  way. 

"  You  see,"  said  the  old  woman,  knocking  the 


MIRANDY,   HANK,   AND   SHOCKY.  $9 

residuum  from  her  cob  pipe,  and  chafing  some  dry 
leaf  between  her  withered  hands  preparatory  to 
filling  it  again,  "you  see,  Mr.  Hartsook,  my  ole 
man's  purty  well  along  in  the  world.  He's  got  a 
right  smart  lot  of  this  world's  plunder,1  one  way 
and  another."  And  while  she  stuffed  the  tobacco 
into  her  pipe  Ralph  wondered  why  she  should  men 
tion  it  to  him.  "  You  see,  we  moved  in  here  nigh 
upon  twenty-five  years  ago.  'Twas  when  my  Jack, 
him  as  died  afore  Bud  was  born,  was  a  baby.  Bud'll 
be  twenty-one  the  fif  of  next  June." 

Here  Mrs.  Means  stopped  to  rake  a  live  coal  out 
of  the  fire  with  her  skinny  finger,  and  then  to  carry 
it  in  her  skinny  palm  to  the  bowl — or  to  the  hole — 
of  her  cob  pipe.  When  she  got  the  smoke  a-going, 
she  proceeded : 

"  You  see,  this  yere  bottom  land  was  all  Congress 
land 2  in  them  there  days,  and  it  sold  for  a  dollar 

1  This  word  plunder  is  probably  from  Pennsylvania,  as  it  is  exactly 
equivalent  to  the  German  word  plunder,  in  the  sense  of  household 
effects,  the  original  meaning  of  the  word  in  German.     Any  kind  of 
baggage  may  be  called  plunder,  but  the  most  accepted  sense  is  house 
hold  goods.     It  is  quite  seriously  used.     I  have  seen  bills  of  lading 
on  the  Western  waters  certifying  that  A.  B.  had  shipped  "  I  lot  of 
plunder;"  that  is,  household  goods.     It  is  here  used  figuratively  for 
goods  in  general. 

2  Congress   land  was  the  old  designation  for  land  owned  by  the 
government.     Under  the  Confederation,  the  Congress  was  the  govern 
ment,  and  the  forms  of  speech  seem  to  have  long  retained  the  notion 
that  what  belonged  to  the  United  States  was  the  property  of  Congress. 


60  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

and  a  quarter,  and  I  says  to  my  ole  man,  'Jack,' 
says  I,  'Jack,  do  you  git  a  plenty  while  you're 
a-gittin'.  Git  a  plenty  while  you're  a-gittin','  says  I, 
'  fer  'twon't  never  be  no  cheaper'n  'tis  now,'  and  it 
ha'n't  been;  I  knowed  'twouldn't,"  and  Mrs.  Means 
took  the  pipe  from  her  mouth  to  indulge  in  a  good 
chuckle  at  the  thought  of  her  financial  shrewdness. 
" '  Git  a  plenty  while  you're  a-gittin','  says  I.  I 
could  see,  you  know,  they  was  a  powerful  sight  of 
money  in  Congress  land.  That's  what  made  me  say, 
'  Git  a  plenty  while  you're  a-gittin'.'  And  Jack, 
he's  wuth  lots  and  gobs  of  money,  all  made  out  of 
Congress  land.  Jack  didn't  git  rich  by  hard  work. 
Bless  you,  no!  Not  him.  That  a'n't  his  way. 
Hard  work  a'n't,  you  know.  'Twas  that  air  six 
hundred  dollars  he  got  along  of  me,  all  salted  down 
into  Flat  Crick  bottoms  at  a  dollar  and  a  quarter  a' 
acre,  and  'twas  my  sayin'  '  Git  a  plenty  while  you're 
a  gittin' '  as  done  it."  And  here  the  old  ogre 
laughed,  or  grinned  horribly,  at  Ralph,  showing  her 
few  straggling,  discolored  teeth. 

Then  she  got  up  and  knocked  the  ashes  out  of 
her  pipe,  and  laid  the  pipe  away  and  walked  round 
in  front  of  Ralph.  After  adjusting  the  chunks1  so 

1  The  commonest  use  of  the  word  chunk  in  the  old  days  was  for 
the  ends  of  the  sticks  of  cord-wood  burned  in  the  great  fireplaces. 
As  the  sticks  burned  in  two,  the  chunks  fell  down  or  rolled  back  on 


MIRANDY,   HANK,   AND   SHOCKY.  6l 

that  the  fire  would  burn,  she  turned  her  yellow  face 
toward  Ralph,  and  scanning  him  closely  came  out 
with  the  climax  of  her  speech  in  the  remark:  "You 
see  as  how,  Mr.  Hartsook,  the  man  what  gits  my 
Mirandy'll  do  well.  Flat  Crick  land's  wuth  nigh 
upon  a  hundred  a'  acre." 

This  gentle  hint  came  near  knocking  Ralph  down. 
Had  Flat  £reek  land  been  worth  a  hundred  times 
a  hundred  "dollars  an  acre,  and  had  he  owned  five 
hundred  times  Means's  five  hundred  acres,  he  would 
have  given  it  all  just  at  that  moment  to  have  anni 
hilated  the  whole  tribe  of  Meanses.  Except  Bud. 
Bud  was  a  giant,  but  a  good-natured  one.  He 
thought  he  would  except  Bud  from  the  general  de 
struction.  As  for  the  rest,  he  mentally  pictured  to 
himself  the  pleasure  of  attending  their  funerals. 
There  was  one  thought,  however,  between  him  and 
despair.  He  felt  confident  that  the  cordiality,  the 
intensity,  and  the  persistency  of  his  dislike  of  Sis 
Means  were  such  that  he  should  never  inherit  a  foot 
of  the  Flat  Creek  bottoms. 

the  wall  side  of  the  andirons.  By  putting  the  chunks  together,  a  new 
fire  was  set  a-going  without  fresh  wood.  This  use  of  the  word  is 
illustrated  in  a  folk-rhyme  or  nursery  jingle  of  the  country  which  has 
neither  sense  nor  elegance  to  recommend  it : 

"Old  Mother  Hunk 
She  got  drunk 
And  fell  in  tue  fire 
And  kicked  up  a  chunk." 


62  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

But  what  about  Bud  ?  What  if  he  joined  the 
conspiracy  to  marry  him  to  this  weak-eyed,  weak- 
headed  wood-nymph,  or  backwoods  nymph  ? 

If  Ralph  felt  it  a  misfortune  to  be  loved  by 
Mirandy  Means,  he  found  himself  almost  equally 
unfortunate  in  having  incurred  the  hatred  of  the 
meanest  boy  in  school.  "  Hank  "  Banta,  low-browed, 
smirky,  and  crafty,  was  the  first  sufferer  by  Ralph's 
determination  to  use  corporal  punishment,  and  so 
Henry  Banta,  who  was  a  compound  of  deceit  and 
resentment,  never  lost  an  opportunity  to  annoy  the 
young  school-master,  who  was  obliged  to  live  per 
petually  on  his  guard  against  his  tricks. 

One  morning,  as  Ralph  walked  toward  the  school- 
house,  he  met  little  Shocky.  What  the  boy's  first 
name  or  last  name  was  the  teacher  did  not  know. 
He  had  given  his  name  as  Shocky,  and  all  the 
teacher  knew  was  that  he  was  commonly  called 
Shocky,  that  he  was  an  orphan,  that  he  lived  with 
a  family  named  Pearson  over  in  Rocky  Hollow,  and 
that  he  was  the  most  faithful  and  affectionate  child 
in  the  school.  On  this  morning  that  I  speak  of, 
Ralph  had  walked  toward  the  school  early  to  avoid 
the  company  of  Mirandy.  But  not  caring  to  sustain 
his  dignity  longer  than  was  necessary,  he  loitered 
along  the  road,  admiring  the  trunk-*  of  the  maples, 
and  picking  up  a  Deecn-nut  now  and  then.  Just  <u. 


BETSY  SHORT 


MIRANDY,   HANK,   AND   SHOCKY.  63 

he  was  about  to  go  on  toward  the  school,  he  caught 
sight  of  little  Shocky  running  swiftly  toward  him, 
but  looking  from  side  to  side,  as  if  afraid  of  being 
seen. 

"  Well,  Shocky,  what  is  it  ?  "  and  Ralph  put  his 
hand  kindly  on  the  great  bushy  head  of  white  hair 
from  which  came  Shocky's  nickname.  Shocky  had 
to  pant  a  minute. 

"Why,  Mr.  Hartsook,"  he  gasped,  scratching  his 
head,  "  they's  a  pond  down  under  the  school-house," 
and  here  Shocky's  breath  gave  out  entirely  for  a 
minute. 

"  Yes,  Shocky,  I  know  that.  What  about  it?  The 
trustees  haven't  come  to  fill  it  up,  have  they  ?  " 

"Oh!  no,  sir;  but  Hank  Banta,  you  know " 

and  Shocky  took  another  breathing  spell,  standing 
as  close  to  Ralph  as  he  could,  for  poor  Shocky  got 
all  his  sunshine  from  the  master's  presence. 

"  Has  Henry  fallen  in  and  got  a  ducking,  Shocky?  " 
"Oh!  no,  sir;  he  wants  to  git  you  in,  you  see." 
"  Well,  I  won't  go  in,  though,  Shocky." 
"  But,  you  see,  he's  been  and  gone  and  pulled 
back  the  board  that  you  have  to  step  on  to  git  ahind 
your  desk;  he's  been  and  gone  and  pulled  back  the 
board  so  as   you  can't   help   a-tippin'   it    up,  and 
a-sowsin'  right  in  ef  you  step  there." 

"And  so  you  came  to  tell  me."     There  was  a  hus- 


64  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

kiness  in  Ralph  s  voice.  He  had,  then,  one  friend 
in  Flat  Creek  district — poor  little  Shocky.  He  put 
his  arm  around  Shocky  just  a  moment,  and  then 
told  him  to  hasten  across  to  the  other  road,  so  as  to 
come  back  to  the  school-house  in  a  direction  at 
right  angles  to  the  master's  approach.  But  the  cau 
tion  was  not  needed.  Shocky  had  taken  care  to 
leave  in  that  way,  and  was  altogether  too  cunning 
to  be  seen  coming  down  the  road  with  Mr.  Hart- 
sook.  But  after  he  got  over  the  fence  to  go  through 
the  "  sugar  camp  "  (or  sugar  orchard,  as  they  say  at 
the  East),  he  stopped  and  turned  back  once  or 
twice,  just  to  catch  one  more  smile  from  Ralph. 
And  then  he  hied  away  through  the  tall  trees,  a  very 
happy  boy,  kicking  and  ploughing  the  brown  leaves 
before  him  in  his  perfect  delight,  saying  over  and 
over  again :  "  How  he  looked  at  me !  how  he  did 
look ! "  And  when  Ralph  came  up  to  the  school- 
house  door,  there  was  Shocky  sauntering  along  from 
the  other  direction,  throwing  bits  of  limestone  at 
fence  rails,  and  smiling  still  clear  down  to  his  shoes 
at  thought  of  the  master's  kind  words. 

"  What  a  quare  boy  Shocky  is !  "  remarked  Bet 
sey  Short,  with  a  giggle.  "  He  just  likes  to  wander 
round  alone.  I  see  him  a-comin'  out  of  the  sugar 
camp  just  now.  He's  been  in  there  half  an  hour." 
And  Betsey  giggled  again ;  for  Betsey  Short  could 


MIRANDY,   HANK,   AND   SHOCKY.  65 

giggle  on  slighter  provocation  than  any  other  girl 
on  Flat  Creek. 

When  Ralph  Hartsook,  with  the  quiet,  dogged 
tread  that  he  was  cultivating,  walked  into  the  school 
room,  he  took  great  care  not  to  seem  to  see  the 
trap  set  for  him ;  but  he  carelessly  stepped  over 
the  board  that  had  been  so  nicely  adjusted.  The 
boys  who  were  Hank's  confidants  in  the  plot  were 
very  busy  orer  their  slates,  and  took  pains  not  to 
show  their  disappointment. 

The  morning  session  wore  on  without  incident. 
Ralph  several  times  caught  two  people  looking  at 
him.  One  was  Mirandy.  Her  weak  and  watery 
eyes  stole  loving  glances  over  the  top  of  her  spell 
ing-book,  which  she  would  not  study.  Her  looks 
made  Ralph's  spirits  sink  to  forty  below  zero,  and 
congeal. 

But  on  one  of  the  backless  little  benches  that  sat 
in  the  middle  of  the  school-room  was  little  Shocky, 
who  also  cast  many  love  glances  at  the  young  mas 
ter;  glances  as  grateful  to  his  heart  as  Mirandy 's  og 
ling — he  was  tempted  to  call  it  ogring — was  hateful. 

"  Look  at  Shocky,"  giggled  Betsey  Short,  behind 
her  slate.  "  He  looks  as  if  he  was  a-goin'  to  eat  the 
master  up,  body  and  soul." 

And  so  the  forenoon  wore  on  as  usual,  and  those 
who  laid  the  trap  had  forgotten  it,  themselves.  The 
5 


66  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

morning  session  was  drawing  to  a  close.  The  fire 
in  the  great  old  fire-place  had  burnt  low.  The 
flames,  which  seemed  to  Shocky  to  be  angels,  had 
disappeared,  and  now  the  bright  coals,  which  had 
played  the  part  of  men  and  women  and  houses  in 
Shocky's  fancy,  had  taken  on  a  white  and  downy 
covering  of  ashes,  and  the  great  half-burnt  back-log 
lay  there  smouldering  like  a  giant  asleep  in  a  snow 
drift.  Shocky  longed  to  wake  him  up. 

As  for  Henry  Banta,  he  was  too  much  bothered 
to  get  the  answer  to  a  "  sum  "  he  was  doing,  to  re 
member  anything  about  his  trap.  In  fact,  he  had 
quite  forgotten  that  half  an  hour  ago  in  the  all-ab 
sorbing  employment  of  drawing  ugly  pictures  on 
his  slate  and  coaxing  Betsey  Short  to  giggle  by 
showing  them  slyly  across  the  school-room.  Once 
or  twice  Ralph  had  been  attracted  to  Betsey's  ex 
traordinary  fits  of  giggling,  and  had  come  so  near 
to  catching  Hank  that  the  boy  thought  it  best  not 
to  run  any  further  risk  of  the  beech  switches,  four 
or  five  feet  long,  laid  up  behind  the  master  in  sight 
of  the  school  as  a  prophylactic.  Hence  his  appli 
cation  just  now  to  his  "sum  "  in  long  division,  and 
hence  his  puzzled  look,  for,  idler  that  he  was,  his 
"  sums  "  did  not  solve  themselves  easily.  As  usual 
in  such  cases,  he  came  up  in  front  of  the  master's 
desk  to  have  the  difficulty  explained.  He  had  to 


MIRANDY,   HANK,   AND   SHOCKY.  6/ 

wait  a  minute  until  Ralph  got  through  with  show 
ing  Betsey  Short,  who  had  been  seized  with  a  study 
ing  fit,  and  who  could  hardly  give  any  attention  to 
the  teacher's  explanations,  she  did  want  to  giggle  so 
much !  Not  at  anything  in  particular,  but  just  at 
things  in  general. 

While  Ralph  was  "doing"  Betsey's  "sum  "for 
her,  he  was  solving  a  much  more  difficult  question. 
A  plan  had  flashed  upon  him,  but  the  punishment 
seemed  a  severe  one.  He  gave  it  up  once  or  twice, 
but  he  remembered  how  turbulent  the  Flat  Creek 
elements  were;  and  had  he  not  inly  resolved  to  be 
as  unrelenting  as  a  bulldog  ?  He  fortified  himself 
by  recalling  again  the  oft-remembered  remark  of 
Bud,  "  Ef  Bull  wunst  takes  a  holt,  heaven  and  yarth 
can't  make  him  let  go."  And  so  he  resolved  to 
give  Hank  and  the  whole  school  one  good  lesson. 

"  Just  step  round  behind  me,  Henry,  and  you  can 
see  how  I  do  this,"  said  Ralph. 

Hank  was  entirely  off  his  guard,  and,  with  his  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  slate  on  the  teacher's  desk,  he  sidled 
round  upon  the  broad  loose  board  misplaced  by 
his  own  hand,  and  in  an  instant  the  other  end  of  the 
board  rose  up  in  the  middle  of  the  school-room, 
almost  striking  Shocky  in  the  face,  while  Henry 
Banta  went  down  into  the  ice-cold  water  beneath 
the  schooLhouse. 


68  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

"Why,  Henry!"  cried  Ralph,  jumping  to  his  feet 
with  well-feigned  surprise.  "  How  didtms  happen  ?  " 
and  he  helped  the  dripping  fellow  out  and  seated 
him  by  the  fire. 

Betsey  Short  giggled. 

Shocky  was  so  tickled  that  he  could  hardly  keep 
his  seat. 

The  boys  who  were  in  the  plot  looked  very  seri 
ous  indeed. 

Ralph  made  some  remarks  by  way  of  improving 
the  occasion.  He  spoke  strongly  of  the  utter  mean 
ness  of  the  one  who  could  play  so  heartless  a  trick 
on  a  schoolmate.  He  said  that  it  was  as  much 
thieving  to  get  your  fun  at  the  expense  of  another 
as  to  steal  his  money.  And  while  he  talked,  all  eyes 
were  turned  on  Hank — all  except  the  eyes  of  Mi- 
randy  Means.  They  looked  simperingly  at  Ralph. 
All  the  rest  looked  at  Hank.  The  fire  had  made 
his  face  very  red.  Shocky  noticed  that.  Betsey 
Short  noticed  it,  and  giggled.  The  master  wound 
up  with  an  appropriate  quotation  from  Scripture. 
He  said  that  the  person  who  displaced  that  board 
had  better  not  be  encouraged  by  the  success — he 
said  success  with  a  curious  emphasis — of  the  present 
experiment  to  attempt  another  trick  of  the  kind. 
For  it  was  set  down  in  the  Bible  that  if  a  man  dug 
a  pit  for  the  feet  of  another  he  would  be  very  likely 


HANK  BANTA'S  IMPROVED  PLUNGE  BATH 


MIRANDY,    HANK,   AND   SHOCKY.  69 

to  fall  in  it  himself.  Which  made  all  the  pupils 
look  solemn,  except  Betsey  Short,  who  giggled. 
And  Shocky  wanted  to.  And  Mirandy  cast  an  ex 
piring  look  at  Ralph.  And  if  the  teacher  was  not 
love-sick,  he  certainly  was  sick  of  Mirandy's  love. 

When  school  was  "  let  out,"  Ralph  gave  Hank 
every  caution  that  he  could  about  taking  cold,  and 
even  lent  him  his  overcoat,  very  much  against 
Hank's  will.  For  Hank  had  obstinately  refused  to 
go  home  before  the  school  was  dismissed. 

Then  the  master  walked  out  in  a  quiet  and  sub 
dued  way  to  spend  the  noon  recess  in  the  woods, 
while  Shocky  watched  his  retreating  footsteps  with 
loving  admiration.  And  the  pupils  not  in  the  se 
cret  canvassed  the  question  of  who  moved  the  board. 
Bill  Means  said  he'd  bet  Hank  did  it,  which  set 
Betsey  Short  off  in  an  uncontrollable  giggle.  And 
Shocky  listened  innocently. 

But  that  night  Bud  said  slyly:  "Thunder  and 
lightning !  what  a  manager  you  air,  Mr.  Hartsook !  " 
To  which  Ralph  returned  no  reply  except  a  friendly 
smile.  Muscle  paid  tribute  to  brains  that  time. 

But  Ralph  had  no  time  for  exultation;  for  just 
here  came  the  spelling-school. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

SPELLING  DOWN    THE   MASTER. 

"  I  'LOW,"  said  Mrs.  Means,  as  she  stuffed  the  to 
bacco  into  her  cob  pipe  after  supper  on  that  event 
ful  Wednesday  evening:  "  I  'low  they'll  app'int  the 
Squire  to  gin  out  the  words  to-night.  They  mos' 
always  do,  you  see,  kase  he's  the  peartest '  ole  man 
in  this  deestrick;  and  I  'low  some  of  the  young  fel 
lers  would  have  to  git  up  and  dust  ef  they  would 
keep  up  to  him.  And  he  uses  sech  remarkable 
smart  words.  He  speaks  so  polite,  too.  But  laws! 
don't  I  remember  when  he  was  poarer  nor  Job's 
turkey  ?  Twenty  year  ago,  when  he  come  to  these 
'ere  diggin's,  that  air  Squire  Hawkins  was  a  poar 
Yankee  school-master,  that  said  '  pail '  instid  of 
bucket,  and  that  called  a  cow  a  '  caow,'  and  that 

1  Peart  or  peert  is  only  another  form  of  the  old  word  pert — proba 
bly  an  older  form.  Bartlett  cites  an  example  of  peart  as  far  back  as 
Sir  Philip  Sidney;  and  Halliwell  finds  it  in  various  English  dialects 
Davies,  afterward  president  of  Princeton  College,  describes  Dr.  Lard- 
ner,  in  1754,  as  "a  little  pert  old  gent."  I  do  not  know  that  Dr. 
Davies  pronounced  his  pert  as  though  it  were  peart,  but  he  uses  it  in 
the  sense  it  has  in  the  text,  viz.,  bright-witted,  intelligent.  The 
general  sense  of  peart  is  lively,  either  in  body  or  mind. 

70 


SPELLING  DOWN  THE   MASTER.  /I 

couldn't  tell  to  save  his  gizzard  what  we  meant  by 
'low '  and  by  right  smart.*     But  he's  larnt  our  ways 

1  Mr.  Lowell  suggested  to  me  in  1869  that  this  word  'tow  has  no 
kinship  with  allow,  but  is  an  independent  word  for  which  he  gave  a 
Low  Latin  original  of  similar  sound.  I  have  not  been  able  to  trace 
any  such  word,  but  Mr.  Lowell  had  so  much  linguistic  knowledge  of 
the  out-of-the-way  sort  that  it  may  be  worth  while  to  record  his  im 
pression.  Bartlett  is  wrong  in  denning  this  word,  as  he  is  usually  in 
his  attempts  to  explain  dialect  outside  of  New  England.  It  does  not 
mean  "  to  declare,  assert,  maintain,"  etc.  It  is  nearly  the  equivalent 
of  guess  in  the  Northern  and  Middle  States,  and  of  reckon  in  the 
South.  It  agrees  precisely  with  the  New  England  calk' late.  Like 
all  the  rest  of  these  words  it  may  have  a  strong  sense  by  irony. 
When  a  man  says,  "  I  'low  that  is  a  purty  peart  sort  of  a  boss,"  he 
understates  for  the  sake  of  emphasis.  It  is  rarely  or  never  allow,  but 
simply  'low.  In  common  with  calk' late,  it  has  sometimes  a  sense  of 
purpose  or  expectation,  as  when  a  man  says,  "  I  'low  to  go  to  town 
to-morry." 

a  No  phrase  of  the  Hoosier  and  Southwestern  dialect  is  such  a 
stumbling-block  to  the  outsider  as  right  smart.  The  writer  from  the 
North  or  East  will  generally  use  it  wrongly.  Mrs.  Stowe  says,  *'  I 
sold  right  smart  of  eggs,"  but  the  Hoosier  woman  as  I  knew  her 
would  have  said  "a  right  smart  lot  of  eggs  "or  "a  right  smart  of 
eggs,"  using  the  article  and  understanding  the  noun.  A  farmer  omit 
ting  the  preposition  boasts  of  having  "  raised  right  smart  corn  "  this 
year.  No  expression  could  have  a  more  vague  sense  than  this.  In 
the  early  settlement  of  Minnesota  it  was  a  custom  of  the  land  officers 
to  require  a  residence  of  about  ten  days  on  "a  claim "  in  order  to  the 
establishment  of  a  pre-emption  right.  One  of  the  receivers  at  a  land 
office  under  Buchanan's  administration  was  a  German  of  much  intel 
ligence  who  was  very  sensitive  regarding  his  knowledge  of  English. 
"  How  long  has  the  claimant  lived  on  his  claim?  "  he  demanded  ef 
a  Hoosier  witness.  "  Oh,  a  right  smart  while,"  was  the  reply.  The 
receiver  had  not  the  faintest  notion  of  the  meaning  of  the  answer, 
but  fearing  to  betray  his  ignorance  of  English  he  allowed  the  land  to 
be  entered,  though  the  claimant  had  spent  but  about  two  hours  in 
residing  on  his  quarter-sectiop. 


7-  THE  HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

now,  an'  he's  jest  as  civilized  as  the  rest  of  us.  You 
would-n  know  he'd  ever  been  a  Yankee.  He  didn't 
stay  poar  long.  Not  he.  He  jest  married  a  right 
rich  girl!  He!  he!  "  And  the  old  woman  grinned 
at  Ralph,  and  then  at  Mirandy,  and  then  at  the  rest, 
until  Ralph  shuddered.  Nothing  was  so  frightful 
to  him  as  to  be  fawned  on  by  this  grinning  ogre, 
whose  few  lonesome,  blackish  teeth  seemed  ready 
to  devour  him.  "  He  didn't  stay  poar,  you  bet  a 
hoss! "  and  with  this  the  coal  was  deposited  on  the 
pipe,  and  the  lips  began  to  crack  like  parchment  as 
each  puff  of  smoke  escaped.  "  He  married  rich, 
you  see,"  and  here  another  significant  look  at  the 
young  master,  and  another  fond  look  at  Mirandy, 
as  she  puffed  away  reflectively.  "  His  wife  hadn't 
no  book-larnin'.  She'd  been  through  the  spellin'- 
book  wunst,  and  had  got  as  fur  as '  asperity  '  on  it  a 
second  time.  But  she  couldn't  read  a  word  when 
she  was  married,  and  never  could.  She  warn't  overly 
smart.  She  hadn't  hardly  got  the  sense  the  law 
allows.  But  schools  was  skase  in  them  air  days,  and, 
besides,  book-larnin'  don't  do  no  good  to  a  woman. 
Makes  her  stuck  up.  I  never  knowed  but  one  gal 
in  my  life  as  had  ciphered  into  fractions,  and  she 
was  so  dog-on  stuck  up  that  she  turned  up  her  nose 
one  night  at  a  apple-peelin'  bekase  I  tuck  a  sheet 
off  the  bed  to  splice  out  the  table-cloth,  which  was 


SPELLING  DOWN   THE  MASTER.  73 

ruther  short.  And  the  sheet  was  mos'  clean  too. 
Had-n  been  slep  on  more'n  wunst  or  twicet.  But 
I  was  goin'  fer  to  say  that  when  Squire  Hawkins 
married  Virginny  Gray  he  got  a  heap  o'  money,  or, 
what's  the  same  thing  mostly,  a  heap  o'  good  land. 
And  that's  better'n  book-larnin',  says  I.  Ef  a  gal 
had  gone  clean  through  all  eddication,  and  got  to 
the  rule  of  three  itself,  that  would-n  buy  a  feather 
bed.  Squire  Hawkins  jest  put  eddication  agin  the 
gal's  farm,  and  traded  even,  an'  ef  ary  one  of  'em 
got  swindled,  I  never  heerd  no  complaints." 

And  here  she  looked  at  Ralph  in  triumph,  her 
hard  face  splintering  into  the  hideous  semblance 
of  a  smile.  And  Mirandy  cast  a  blushing,  gushing, 
all-imploring,  and  all-confiding  look  on  the  young 
master. 

"  I  say,  ole  woman,"  broke  'in  old  Jack,  "  I  say, 
wot  is  all  this  'ere  spoutin'  about  the  Square  fer  ?  " 
and  old  Jack,  having  bit  off  an  ounce  of  "  pigtail," 
returned  the  plug  to  his  pocket. 

As  for  Ralph,  he  fell  into  a  sort  of  terror.  He 
had  a  guilty  feeling  that  this  speech  of  the  old  lady's 
had  somehow  committed  him  beyond  recall  to  Mi- 
randy.  He  did  not  see  visions  of  breach-of-promise 
suits.  But  he  trembled  at  the  thought  of  an  aveng 
ing  big  brother. 

"  Hanner,  you  kin  come  along,  too,  ef  you're  a 


74  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

mind,  when  you  git  the  dishes  washed,"  said  Mrs. 
Means  to  the  bound  girl,  as  she  shut  and  latched 
the  back  door.  The  Means  family  had  built  a  new 
house  in  front  of  the  old  one,  as  a  sort  of  adver 
tisement  of  bettered  circumstances,  an  eruption  of 
shoddy  feeling;  but  when  the  new  building  was 
completed,  they  found  themselves  unable  to  occupy 
it  for  anything  else  than  a  lumber  room,  and  so, 
except  a  parlor  which  Mirandy  had  made  an  effort 
to  furnish  a  little  (in  hope  cf  the  blissful  time  when 
somebody  should  "  set  up  "  with  her  of  evenings), 
the  new  building  was  almost  unoccupied,  and  the 
.  family  went  in  and  out  through  the  back  door, 
which,  indeed,  was  the  front  door  also,  for,  accord 
ing  to  a  curious  custom,  the  "  front "  of  the  house 
was  placed  toward  the  south,  though  the  "  big 
road  "  (Hoosier  for  highway)  ran  along  the  north 
west  side,  or,  rather,  past  the  north-west  corner 
of  it. 

When  the  old  woman  had  spoken  thus  to  Han 
nah  and  had  latched  the  door,  she  muttered,  "  That 
gal  don't  never  show  no  gratitude  fer  favors;"  to 
which  Bud  rejoined  that  he  didn't  think  she  had  no 
great  sight  to  be  pertickler  thankful  fer.  t  To  which 
Mrs.  Means  made  no  reply,  thinking  it  best,  per 
haps,  not  to  wake  up  her  dutiful  son  on  so  interest 
ing  a  theme  as  her  treatment  of  Hannah.  Ralph 


SPELLING  DOWN   THE   MASTER.  75 

felt  glad  that  he  was  this  evening  to  go  to  another 
.  boarding  place.     He  should  not  hear  the  rest  of  the 
controversy. 

Ralph  walked  to  the  school-house  with  Bill.  They 
were  friends  again.  For  when  Hank  Banta's  duck 
ing  and  his  dogged  obstinacy  in  sitting  in  his  wet 
clothes  had  brought  on  a  serious  fever,  Ralph  had 
called  together  the  big  boys,  and  had  said :  "  We 
must  take  care  of  one  another,  boys.  Who  will  vol 
unteer  to  take  turns  sitting  up  with  Henry  ?  "  He 
put  his  own  name  down,  and  all  the  rest  followed. 

"  William  Means  and  myself  will  sit  up  to-night," 
said  Ralph.  And  poor  Bill  had  been  from  that  mo 
ment  the  teacher's  friend.  He  was  chosen  to  be 
Ralph's  companion.  He  was  Puppy  Means  no 
longer!  Hank  could  not  be  conquered  by  kindness, 
and  the  teacher  was  made  to  feel  the  bitterness  of 
his  resentment  long  after.  But  Bill  Means  was  for 
the  time  entirely  placated,  and  he  and  Ralph  went 
to  spelling-school  together. 

'  Every  family  furnished  a  candle.  There  were  yel 
low  dips  and  white  dips,  burning,  smoking,  and  flar 
ing.  There  was  laughing,  and  talking,  and  giggling, 
and  simpering,  and  ogling,  and  flirting,  and  court 
ing.  What  a  full-dress  party  is  to  Fifth  Avenue, 
a  spelling-school  is  to  Hoopole  County.  It  is  an 
occasion  which  is  metaphorically  inscribed  with 


76  THE   HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

this  legend:  "Choose  your  partners."  Spelling  is 
only  a  blind  in  Hoopole  County,  as  is  dancing  on 
Fifth  Avenue.  But  as  there  are  some  in  society 
who  love  dancing  for  its  own  sake,  so  in  Flat  Creek 
district  there  were  those  who  loved  spelling  for  its 
own  sake,  and  who,  smelling  the  battle  from  afar, 
had  come  to  try  their  skill  in  this  tournament,  hop 
ing  to  freshen  the  laurels  they  had  won  in  their 
school-days. 

"  I  'low,"  said  Mr.  Means,  speaking  as  the  princi 
pal  school  trustee,  "  I  'low  our  friend  the  Square  is 
jest  the  man  to  boss  this  'ere  consarn  to-night.  Ef 
nobody  objects,  I'll  app'int  him.  Come,  Square, 
don't  be  bashful.  Walk  up  to  the  trough,  fodder  or 
no  fodder,  as  the  man  said  to  his  donkey." 

There  was  a  general  giggle  at  this,  and  many  of 
the  young  swains  took  occasion  to  nudge  the  girls 
alongside  them,  ostensibly  for  the  purpose  of  mak 
ing  them  see  the  joke,  but  really  for  the  pure  pleas 
ure  of  nudging.  The  Greeks  figured  Cupid  as  naked, 
probably  because  he  wears  so  many  disguises  that 
they  could  not  select  a  costume  for  him. 

The  Squire  came  to  the  front.  Ralph  made  an 
inventory  of  the  agglomeration  which  bore  the 
name  of  Squire  Hawkins,  as  follows: 

I.  A  swallow-tail  coat  of  indefinite  age,  worn  only 
on  state  occasions,  when  its  owner  was  called  to  fig- 


SPELLING  DOWN  THE  MASTER.  // 

ure  in  his  public  capacity.     Either  the  Squire  had 
grown  too  large  or  the  coat  too  small. 

2.  A  pair  of  black  gloves,  the  most  phenomenal, 
abnormal,  and   unexpected  apparition  conceivable 
in  Flat  Creek  district,  where  the  preachers  wore  no 
coats  in  the  summer,  and  where  a  black  glove  was 
never  seen  except  on  the  hands  of  the  Squire. 

3.  A  wig  of  that  dirty,  waxen  color  so  common  to 
wigs.     This  one  showed  a  continual  inclination  to 
slip  off  the  owner's  smooth,  bald  pate,  and  the  Squire 
had  frequently  to  adjust  it.     As  his  hair  had  been 
red,  the  wig  did  not  accord  with  his  face,  and  the 
hair  ungrayed  was  doubly  discordant  with  a  coun 
tenance  shrivelled  by  age. 

4.  A  semicircular  row  of  whiskers  hedging  the 
edge  of  the  jaw  and  chin.     These  were  dyed  a  fright 
ful  dead-black,  such  a  color  as  belonged  to  no  natu 
ral  hair  or  beard  that  ever  existed.     At  the  roots 
there  was  a  quarter  of  an  inch  of  white,  giving  the 
whiskers  the  appearance  of  having  been  stuck  on. 

5.  A  pair  of  spectacles  "with  tortoise-shell  rim." 
Wont  to  slip  off. 

6.  A  glass  eye,  purchased  of  a  peddler,  and  differ 
ing  in  color  from  its  natural  mate,  perpetually  get 
ting  out  of  focus  by  turning  in  or  out. 

7.  A  set  of  false  teeth,  badly  fitted,  and  given  to 
bobbing  up  and  down. 


78  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

8.  The  Squire  proper,  to  whom  these  patches 
were  loosely  attached. 

It  is  an  old  story  that  a  boy  wrote  home  to  his 
father  begging  him  to  come  West,  because  "  mighty 
mean  men  get  into  office  out  here."  But  Ralph 
concluded  that  some  Yankees  had  taught  school  in 
Hoopole  County  who  would  not  have  held  a  high 
place  in  the  educational  institutions  of  Massachu 
setts.  Hawkins  had  some  New  England  idioms, 
but  they  were  well  overlaid  by  a  Western  pronunci 
ation. 

"  Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  began,  shoving  up 
his  spectacles,  and  sucking  his  lips  over  his  white 
teeth  to  keep  them  in  place,  "  ladies  and  gentlemen, 
young  men  and  maidens,  raley  I'm  obleeged  to  Mr. 
Means  fer  this  honor,"  and  the  Squire  took  both 
hands  and  turned  the  top  of  his  head  round  half 
an  inch.  Then  he  adjusted  his  spectacles.  Whether 
he  was  obliged  to  Mr.  Means  for  the  honor  of  being 
compared  to  a  donkey  was  not  clear.  "  I  feel  in 
the  inmost  compartments  of  my  animal  spirits  a 
most  happifying  sense  of  the  success  and  futility  of 
all  my  endeavors  to  sarve  the  people  of  Flat  Creek 
deestrick,  and  the  people  of  Tomkins  township,  in 
my  weak  way  and  manner."  This  burst  of  elo 
quence  was  delivered  with  a  constrained  air  and  an 
apparent  sense  of  a  danger  that  he,  Squire  Hawkins, 


SPELLING  DOWN  THE   MASTER.  79 

might  fall  to  pieces  in  his  weak  way  and  manner, 
and  of  the  success  and  futility  of  all  attempts  at  re 
construction.  For  by  this  time  the  ghastly  pupil 
of  the  left  eye,  which  was  black,  was  looking  away 
round  to  the  left,  while  the  little  blue  one  on  the  right 
twinkled  cheerfully  toward  the  front.  The  front 
teeth  would  drop  down  so  that  the  Squire's  mouth 
was  kept  nearly  closed,  and  his  words  whistled 
through. 

"  I  feel  as  if  I  could  be  grandiloquent  on  this  in 
teresting  occasion,"  twisting  his  scalp  round,  "  but 
raley  I  must  forego  any  such  exertions.  It  is  spell 
ing  you  want.  Spelling  is  the  corner-stone,  the 
grand,  underlying  subterfuge,  of  a  good  eddication. 
I  put  thespellin'-book  prepared  by  the  great  Daniel 
Webster  alongside  the  Bible.  I  do,  raley.  I  think 
I  may  put  it  ahead  of  the  Bible.  For  if  it  wurn't 
fer  spellin'-books  and  sich  occasions  as  these,  where 
would  the  Bible  be?  I  should  like  to  know.  The 
man  who  got  up,  who  compounded  this  work  of  in 
extricable  valoo  was  a  benufactor  to  the  whole  hu 
man  race  or  any  other."  Here  the  spectacles  fell 
off.  The  Squire  replaced  them  in  some  confusion, 
gave  the  top  of  his  head  another  twist,  and  felt  of 
his  glass  eye,  while  poor  Shocky  stared  in  wonder, 
and  Betsey  Short  rolled  from  side  to  side  in  the 
effort  to  suppress  her  giggle.  Mrs.  Means  and  the 


8O  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

other  old  ladies  looked  the  applause  they  could 
not  speak. 

"  I  app'int  Larkin  Lanham  and  Jeems  Buchanan 
fer  captings,"  said  the  Squire.  And  the  two  young 
men  thus  named  took  a  stick  and  tossed  it  from 
hand  to  hand  to  decide  which  should  have  the  "  first 
choice."  One  tossed  the  stick  to  the  other,  who  held 
it  fast  just  where  he  happened  to  catch  it.  Then 
the  first  placed  his  hand  above  the  second,  and  so 
the  hands  were  alternately  changed  to  the  top. 
The  one  who  held  the  stick  last  without  room  for 
the  other  to  take  hold  had  gained  the  lot.  This 
was  tried  three  times.  As  Larkin  held  the  stick 
twice  out  of  three  times,  he  had  the  choice.  He 
hesitated  a  moment.  Everybody  looked  toward 
tall  Jim  Phillips.  But  Larkin  was  fond  of  a  venture 
on  unknown  seas,  and  so  he  said,  "  I  take  the  mas 
ter,"  while  a  buzz  of  surprise  ran  round  the  room, 
and  the  captain  of  the  other  side,  as  if  afraid  his  op 
ponent  would  withdraw  the  choice,  retorted  quickly, 
and  with  a  little  smack  of  exultation  and  defiance 
in  his  voice,  "And  7  take  Jeems  Phillips." 

And  soon  all  present,  except  a  few  of  the  old 
folks,  found  themselves  ranged  in  opposing  hosts, 
the  poor  spellers  lagging  in,  with  what  grace  they 
could,  at  the  foot  of  the  two  divisions.  The  Squire 
opened  his  spelling-book  and  began  to  give  out  the 


SPELLING  DOWN  THE  MASTER.  8 1 

words  to  the  two  captains,  who  stood  up  and  spelled 
against  each  other.  It  was  not  long  until  Larkin 
spelled  "  really  "  with  one  /,  and  had  to  sit  down  in 
confusion,  while  a  murmur  of  satisfaction  ran 
through  the  ranks  of  the  opposing  forces.  His  own 
side  bit  their  lips.  The  slender  figure  of  the  young 
teacher  took  the  place  of  the  fallen  leader,  and  the 
excitement  made  the  house  very  quiet.  Ralph 
dreaded  the  loss  of  prestige  he  would  suffer  if  he 
should  be  easily  spelled  down.  And  at  the  moment 
of  rising  he  saw  in  the  darkest  corner  the  figure  of 
a  well-dressed  young  man  sitting  in  the  shadow. 
Why  should  his  evil  genius  haunt  him  ?  But  by  a 
strong  effort  he  turned  his  attention  away  from  Dr. 
Small,  and  listened  carefully  to  the  words  which  the 
Squire  did  not  pronounce  very  distinctly,  spelling 
them  with  extreme  deliberation.  This  gave  him  an 
air  of  hesitation  which  disappointed  those  on  his 
own  side.  They  wanted  him  to  spell  with  a  dashing 
assurance.  But  he  did  not  begin  a  word  until  he 
had  mentally  felt  his  way  through  it.  After  ten 
minutes  of  spelling  hard  words  Jeems  Buchanan, 
the  captain  on  the  other  side,  spelled  "atrocious" 
with  an  s  instead  of  a  c,  and  subsided,  his  first  choice, 
Jeems  Phillips,  coming  up  against  the  teacher.  This 
brought  the  excitement  to  fever-heat.  For  though 

Ralph  was  chosen  first,  it  was  entirely  on  trust,  and 
6 


82  THE  HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

most  of  the  company  were  disappointed.  The 
champion  who  now  stood  up  against  the  school-mas 
ter  was  a  famous  speller. 

Jim  Phillips  was  a  tall,  lank,  stoop-shouldered 
fellow  who  had  never  distinguished  himself  in  any 
other  pursuit  than  spelling.  Except  in  this  one  art 
of  spelling  he  was  of  no  account.  He  could  not 
catch  well  or  bat  well  in  ball.  He  could  not  throw 
well  enough  to  make  his  mark  in  that  famous  West 
ern  game  of  bull-pen.  He  did  not  succeed  well  in 
any  study  but  that  of  Webster's  Elementary.  But 
in  that  he  was — to  use  the  usual  Flat  Creek  locution 
— in  that  he  was  "  a  hoss."  This  genius  for  spelling 
is  in  some  people  a  sixth  sense,  a  matter  of  intuition. 
Some  spellers  are  born,  and  not  made,  and  their 
facility  reminds  one  of  the  mathematical  prodigies 
that  crop  out  every  now  and  then  to  bewilder  the 
world.  Bud  Means,  foreseeing  that  Ralph  would  be 
pitted  against  Jim  Phillips,  had  warned  his  friend  that 
Jim  could  "spell  like  thunder  and  lightning,"  and  that 
it  "  took  a  powerful  smart  speller  "  to  beat  him,  for  he 
knew  "  a  heap  of  spelling-book."  To  have  "  spelled 
down  the  master  "  is  next  thing  to  having  whipped 
the  biggest  bully  in  Hoopole  County,  and  Jim  had 
"  spelled  down  "  the  last  three  masters.  He  divided 
the  hero-worship  of  the  district  with  Bud  Means. 

For  half  an  hour  the  Squire  gave  out  hard  words. 


SPELLING  DOWN  THE  MASTER.  83 

What  a  blessed  thing  our  crooked  orthography  is! 
Without  it  there  could  be  no  spelling-schools.  As 
Ralph  discovered  his  opponent's  mettle  he  became 
more  and  more  cautious.  He  was  now  satisfied  that 
Jim  would  eventually  beat  him.  The  fellow  evi 
dently  knew  more  about  the  spelling-book  than  old 
Noah  Webster  himself.  As  he  stood  there,  with 
his  dull  face  and  long  sharp  nose,  his  hands  behind 
his  back,  and  his  voice  spelling  infallibly,  it  seemed 
to  Hartsookthat  his  superiority  must  lie  in  his  nose. 
Ralph's  cautiousness  answered  a  double  purpose; 
it  enabled  him  to  tread  surely,  and  it  was  mistaken 
by  Jim  for  weakness.  Phillips  was  now  confident 
that  he  should  carry  off  the  scalp  of  the  fourth 
school-master  before  the  evening  was  over.  He 
spelled  eagerly,  confidently,  brilliantly.  Stoop- 
shouldered  as  he  was,  he  began  to  straighten  up. 
In  the  minds  of  all  the  company  the  odds  were  in 
his  favor.  He  saw  this,  and  became  ambitious  to 
distinguish  himself  by  spelling  without  giving  the 
matter  any  thought. 

Ralph  always  believed  that  he  would  have  been 
speedily  defeated  by  Phillips  had  it  not  been  for  two 
thoughts  which  braced  him.  The  sinister  shadow 
of  young  Dr.  Small  sitting  in  the  dark  corner  by 
the  wafer-bucket  nerved  him.  A  victory  over  Phillips 
was  a  defeat  $9  9n§  who  wished  only  ill  to  the  young 


84  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

school-master.  The  other  thought  that  kept  his 
pluck  alive  was  the  recollection  of  Bull.  He  ap 
proached  a  word  as  Bull  approached  the  raccoon. 
He  did  not  take  hold  until  he  was  sure  of  his  game. 
When  he  took  hold,  it  was  with  a  quiet  assurance 
of  success.  As  Ralph  spelled  in  this  dogged  way 
for  half  an  hour  the  hardest  words  the  Squire  could 
find,  the  excitement  steadily  rose  in  all  parts  of  the 
house,  and  Ralph's  friends  even  ventured  to  whisper 
that  "  maybe  Jim  had  cotched  his  match,  after 
all!" 

But  Phillips  never  doubted  of  his  success. 

"Theodolite,"  said  the  Squire. 

"  T-h-e,  the,  o-d,  od,  theod,  o,  theodo,  1-y-t-e,  the 
odolite,"  spelled  the  champion. 

"  Next,"  said  the  Squire,  nearly  losing  his  teeth 
in  his  excitement.  Ralph  spelled  the  word  slowly 
and  correctly,  and  the  conquered  champion  sat  down 
in  confusion.  The  excitement  was  so  great  for  some 
minutes  that  the  spelling  was  suspended.  Every 
body  in  the  house  had  shown  sympathy  with  one  or 
the  other  of  the  combatants,  except  the  silent 
shadow  in  the  corner.  It  had  not  moved  during 
the  contest,  and  did  not  show  any  interest  now  in 
the  result. 

"  Gewhilliky  crickets!  Thunder  and  lightning! 
Licked  him  all  to  smash !  "  said  Bud,  rubbing  his. 


SPELLING  DOWN  THE  MASTER.  85 

hands  on  his  knees.  "  That  beats  my  time  all  hol 
ler!" 

And  Betsey  Short  giggled  until  her  tuck-comb 
fell  out,  though  she  was  on  the  defeated  side. 

Shocky  got  up  and  danced  with  pleasure. 

But  one  suffocating  look  from  the  aqueous  eyes 
of  Mirandy  destroyed  the  last  spark  of  Ralph's 
pleasure  in  his  triumph,  and  sent  that  awful  below- 
zero  feeling  all  through  him. 

"  He's  powerful  smart,  is  the  master,"  said  old 
Jack  to  Mr.  Pete  Jones.  "  He'll  beat  the  whole  kit 
and  tuck  of  'em  afore  he's  through.  I  know'd  he 
was  smart.  That's  the  reason  I  tuck  him,"  pro 
ceeded  Mr.  Means. 

"  Yaas,  but  he  don't  lick  enough.  Not  nigh,"  an 
swered  Pete  Jones.  "  No  lickin',  no  larnin',  says  I." 

It  was  now  not  so  hard.  The  other  spellers  on 
the  opposite  side  went  down  quickly  under  the 
hard  words  which  the  Squire  gave  out.  The  mas 
ter  had  mowed  down  all  but  a  few,  his  opponents 
had  given  up  the  battle,  and  all  had  lost  their  keen 
interest  in  a  contest  to  which  there  could  be  but 
one  conclusion,  for  there  were  only  the  poor  spellers 
left.  But  Ralph  Hartsook  ran  against  a  stump 
where  he  was  least  expecting  it.  It  was  the  Squire's 
custom,  when  one  of  the  smaller  scholars  or  poorer 
spellers  rose  to  spell  against  the  master,  to  give  out 


86  THE  HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

eight  or  ten  easy  words,  that  they  might  have  some 
breathing-spell  before  being  slaughtered,  and  then 
to  give  a  poser  or  two  which  soon  settled  them. 
He  let  them  run  a  little,  as  a  cat  does  a  doomed 
mouse.  There  was  now  but  one  person  left  on  the 
opposite  side,  and,  as  she  rose  in  her  blue  calico 
dress,  Ralph  recognized  Hannah,  the  bound  girl  at 
old  Jack  Means's.  She  had  not  attended  school  in 
the  district,  and  had  never  spelled  in  spelling-school 
before,  and  was  chosen  last  as  an  uncertain  quan 
tity.  The  Squire  began  with  easy  words  of  two 
syllables,  from  that  page  of  Webster,  so  well  known 
to  all  who  ever  thumbed  it,  as  "  baker,"  from  the 
word  that  stands  at  the  top  of  the  page.  She 
spelled  these  words  in  an  absent  and  uninterested 
manner.  As  everybody  knew  that  she  would  have 
to  go  down  as  soon  as  this  preliminary  skirmishing 
was  over,  everybody  began  to  get  ready  to  go 
home,  and  already  there  was  the  buzz  of  prepara 
tion.  Young  men  were  timidly  asking  girls  if  "  they 
could  see  them  safe  home,"  which  was  the  approved 
formula,  and  were  trembling  in  mortal  fear  of  "  the 
mitten."  Presently  the  Squire,  thinking  it  time  to 
close  the  contest,  pulled  his  scalp  forward,  adjusted 
his  glass  eye,  which  had  been  examining  his  nose 
long  enough,  and  turned  over  the  leaves  of  the  book 
to  the  great  words  at  the  place  known  to  spellers 


SPELLING  DOWN  THE   MASTER.  8/ 

as  "  incomprehensibility,"  and  began  to  give  out 
those  "  words  of  eight  syllables  with  the  accent  on 
the  sixth."  Listless  scholars  now  turned  round, 
and  ceased  to  whisper,  in  order  to  be  in  at  the  mas 
ter's  final  triumph.  But  to  their  surprise  "ole 
Miss  Meanses'  white  nigger,"  as  some  of  them 
called  her  in  allusion  to  her  slavish  life,  spelled 
these  great  words  with  as  perfect  ease  as  the  mas 
ter.  Still  not  doubting  the  result,  the  Squire 
turned  from  place  to  place  and  selected  all  the  hard 
words  he  could  find.  The  school  became  utterly 
quiet,  the  excitement  was  too  great  for  the  ordi 
nary  buzz.  Would  "  Meanses'  Hanner"  beat  the 
master  ?  beat  the  master  that  had  laid  out  Jim 
Phillips  ?  Everybody's  sympathy  was  now  turned 
to  Hannah.  Ralph  noticed  that  even  Shocky  had 
deserted  him,  and  that  his  face  grew  brilliant  every 
time  Hannah  spelled  a  word.  In  fact,  Ralph  de 
serted  himself.  As  he  saw  the  fine,  timid  face  of 
the  girl  so  long  oppressed  flush  and  shine  with  in 
terest  ;  as  he  looked  at  the  rather  low  but  broad  and 
intelligent  brow  and  the  fresh,  white  complexion 
and  saw  the  rich,  womanly  nature  coming  to  the 
surface  under  the  influence  of  applause  and  sym 
pathy — he  did  not  want  to  beat.  If  he  had  not  felt 
that  a  victory  given  would  insult  her,  he  would 
have  missed  intentionally.  The  bulldog,  the  stern, 


88  THE  HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

relentless  setting  of  the  will,  had  gone,  he  knew 
not  whither.  And  there  had  come  in  its  place,  as 
he  looked  in  that  face,  a  something  which  he  did 
not  understand.  You  did  not,  gentle  reader,  the 
first  time  it  came  to  you. 

The  Squire  was  puzzled.  He  had  given  out  all 
the  hard  words  in  the  book.  He  again  pulled  the 
top  of  his  head  forward.  Then  he  wiped  his  spec 
tacles  and  put  them  on.  Then  out  of  the  depths 
of  his  pocket  he  fished  up  a  list  of  words  just  com 
ing  into  use  in  those  days — words  not  in  the  spell- 
lirig-book.  He  regarded  the  paper  attentively  with 
his  blue  right  eye.  His  black  left  eye  meanwhile 
fixed  itself  in  such  a  stare  on  Mirandy  Means  that 
she  shuddered  and  hid  her  eyes  in  her  red  silk 
handkerchief. 

"  Daguerreotype,"  sniffed  the  Squire.  It  was 
Ralph's  turn. 

"  D-a-u,  dau " 

"  Next." 

And  Hannah  spelled  it  right. 

Such  a  buzz  followed  that  Betsey  Short's  giggle 
could  not  be  heard,  but  Shocky  shouted:  "  Hanner 
beat!  my  Hanner  spelled  down  the  master!  "  And 
Ralph  went  over  and  congratulated  her. 

And  Dr.  Small  sat  perfectly  still  in  the  corner. 

And  then  the  Squire  called  them  to  order,  and 


SPELLING  DOWN  THE  MASTER.  89 

said :  "  As  our  friend  Hanner  Thomson  is  the  only 
one  left  on  her  side,  she  will  have  to  spell  against 
nearly  all  on  t'other  side.  I  shall  therefore  take 
the  liberty  of  procrastinating  the  completion  of  this 
interesting  and  exacting  contest  until  to-morrow 
evening.  I  hope  our  friend  Hanner  may  again 
carry  off  the  cypress  crown  of  glory.  There  is 
nothing  better  for  us  than  healthful  and  kindly 
simulation." 

Dr.  Small,  who 'knew  the  road  to  practice,  es 
corted  Mirandy,  and  Bud  went  home  with  some 
body  else.  The  others  of  the  Means  family  hurried 
on,  while  Hannah,  the  champion,  stayed  behind  a 
minute  to  speak  to  Shocky.  Perhaps  it  was  because 
Ralph  saw  that  Hannah  must  go  alone  that  he  sud 
denly  remembered  having  left  something  which  was 
of  no  consequence,  and  resolved  to  go  round  by 
Mr.  Means's  and  get  it. 


CHAPTER   V. 

THE    WALK    HOME. 

You  expect  me  to  describe  that  walk.  You  have 
had  enough  of  the  Jack  Meanses  and  the  Squire 
Hawkinses,  and  the  Pete  Joneses,  and  the  rest. 
You  wish  me  to  tell  you  now  of  this  true-hearted 
girl  and  her  lover;  of  how  the  silvery  moonbeams 
came  down  in  a  shower — to  use  Whittier's  favorite 
metaphor — through  the  maple  boughs,  flecking  the 
frozen  ground  with  light  and  shadow.  You  would 
have  me  tell  of  the  evening  star,  not  yet  gone 
down,  which  shed  its  benediction  on  them.  But  I 
shall  do  no  such  thing.  For  the  moon  was  not 
shining,  neither  did  the  stars  give  their  light.  The 
tall,  black  trunks  of  the  maples  swayed  and  shook 
in  the  wind,  which  moaned  through  their  leafless 
boughs.  Novelists  always  make  lovers  walk  in  the 
moonlight.  But  if  love  is  not,  as  the  cynics  be 
lieve,  all  moonshine,  it  can  at  least  make  its  own 
light.  Moonlight  is  never  so  little  needed  or  heeded, 
never  so  much  of  an  impertinence,  as  in  a  love- 
scene.  It  was  at  the  bottom  of  the  first  hollow 

90 


THE  WALK  HOME.  9! 

beyond  the  school-house  that  Ralph  overtook  the 
timid  girl  walking  swiftly  through  the  dark.  He 
did  not  ask  permission  to  walk  with  her.  Love 
does  not  go  by  words,  and  there  are  times  when 
conventionality  is  impossible.  There  are  people 
who  understand  one  another  at  once.  When  one 
soul  meets  another,  it  is  not  by  pass-word,  nor  by 
hailing  sign,  nor  by  mysterious  grip  that  they  rec< 
ognize.  The  subtlest  freemasonry  in  the  world  is 
this  freemasonry  of  the  spirit. 

Ralph  and  Hannah  knew  and  trusted.  Ralph 
had  admired  and  wondered  at  the  quiet  drudge. 
But  it  was  when,  in  the  unaccustomed  sunshine  of 
praise,  she  spread  her  wings  a  little,  that  he  loved 
her.  He  had  seen  her  awake. 

You,  Miss  Amelia,  wish  me  to  repeat  all  their 
love-talk.  I  am  afraid  you'd  find  it  dull.  Love 
can  pipe  through  any  kind  of  a  reed.  Ralph  talked 
love  to  Hannah  when  he  spoke  of  the  weather,  of 
the  crops,  of  the  spelling-school.  Weather,  crops, 
and  spelling-school — these  were  what  his  words 
would  say  if  reported.  But  below  all  these  com 
monplaces  there  vibrated  something  else.  One  can 
make  love  a  great  deal  better  when  one  doesn't 
speak  of  love.  Words  are  so  poor!  Tones  and 
modulations  are  better.  It  is  an  old  story  that 
Whitefield  could  make  an  audience  weep  by  his 


Q2  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

way  of  pronouncing  the  word  Mesopotamia.  A 
lover  can  sound  the  whole  gamut  of  his  affection  in 
saying  Good-morning.  The  solemnest  engagements 
ever  made  have  been  without  the  intervention  of 
speech. 

And  you,  my  Gradgrind  friend,  you  think  me 
sentimental.  Two  young  fools  they  were,  walking 
so  slowly  though  the  night  was  sharp,  dallying 
under  the  trees,  and  dreaming  of  a  heaven  they 
could  not  have  realized  if  all  their  wishes  had  been 
granted.  Of  course  they  were  fools!  Either  they 
were  fools  to  be  so  happy,  or  else  some  other  peo 
ple  are  fools  not  to  be.  After  all,  dear  Gradgrind, 
let  them  be.  There's  no  harm  in  it.  They'll  get 
trouble  enough  before  morning.  Let  them  enjoy 
the  evening.  I  am  not  sure  but  these  lovers  whom 
we  write  down  fools  are  the  only  wise  people,  after 
all.  Is  it  not  wise  to  be  happy  ?  Let  them  alone. 

For  the  first  time  in  three  years,  for  the  first 
time  since  she  had  crossed  the  threshold  of  "  Old 
Jack  Means "  and  come  under  the  domination  of 
Mrs.  Old  Jack  Means,  Hannah  talked  cheerfully, 
almost  gayly.  It  was  something  to  have  a  compan 
ion  to  talk  to.  It  was  something  to  be  the  victor 
even  in  a  spelling-match,  and  to  be  applauded  even 
by  Flat  Creek.  And  so,  chatting  earnestly  about 
the  most  uninteresting  themes,  Ralph  courteously 


THE  WALK  HOME.  93 

helped  Hannah  over  the  fence,  and  they  took  the 
usual  short-cut  through  the  "  blue-grass  pasture." 
There  came  up  a  little  shower,  hardly  more  than  a 
sprinkle,  but  then  it  was  so  nice  to  have  a  shower 
just  as  they  reached  the  box-elder  tree  by  the 
spring!  It  was  so  thoughtful  in  Ralph  to  suggest 
that  the  shade  of  a  box-elder  is  dense,  and  that 
Hannah  might  take  cold!  And  it  was  so  easy  for 
Hannah  to  yield  to  the  suggestion !  Just  as  though 
she  had  not  milked  the  cows  in  the  open  lot  in  the 
worst  storms  of  the  last  three  years !  And  just  as 
though  the  house  were  not  within  a  stone's-throw ! 
Doubtless  it  was  not  prudent  to  stop  here.  But 
let  us  deal  gently  with  them.  Who  would  not  stay 
in  an  earthy  paradise  ten  minutes  longer,  even 
though  it  did  make  purgatory  the  hotter  afterward  ? 
And  so  Hannah  stayed. 

"Tell  me  your  circumstances,"  said  Ralph,  at 
last.  "  I  am  sure  I  can  help  you  in  something." 

"No,  no!  you  cannot,"  and  Hannah's  face  was 
clouded.  "  No  one  can  help  me.  Only  time  and 
God.  I  must  go,  Mr.  Hartsook."  And  they  walked 
on  to  the  front  gate  in  silence  and  in  some  con 
straint.  But  still  in  happiness. 

As  they  came  to  the  gate,  Dr.  Small  pushed  past 
them,  in  his  cool,  deliberate  way,  and  mounted  his 
horse.  Ralph  bade  Hannah  good-night,  having  en> 


94  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

tirely  forgotten  the  errand  which  had  been  his  ex 
cuse  to  himself  for  coming  out  of  his  way.  He 
hastened  to  his  new  home,  the  house  of  Mr.  Pete 
Jones,  the  same  who  believed  in  the  inseparable- 
ness  of  "  lickin'  and  larninV 

"  You're  a  purty  gal,  a'n't  you  ?  You're  a  purty 
gal,  a'n't  you?  You  air!  Yes,  you  air!!"  and 
Mrs.  Means  seemed  so  impressed  with  Hannah's 
prettiness  that  she  choked  on  it,  and  could  get  no 
further.  "A  purty  gal!  you!  Yes!  you  air  a 
mighty  purty  gal!"  and  the  old  woman's  voice 
rose  till  it  could  have  been  heard  half  a  mile.  "  To 
be  a-santerin'  along  the  big  road  after  ten  o'clock 
with  the  master!  Who  knows  whether  he's  a  fit 
man  fer  anybody  to  go  with  ?  Arte'r  all  I've  been 
and  gone  and  done  fer  you !  That's  the  way  you 
pay  me !  Disgrace  me !  Yes,  I  say  disgrace  me ! 
You're  a  mean,  deceitful  thing.  Stuck  up  bekase 
you  spelt  the  master  down.  Ketch  me  lettin'  you 
got  to  spellin'-school  to-morry  night!  Ketch  ME! 
Yes,  ketch  ME,  I  say!" 

"  Looky  here,  marm,"  said  Bud,  "  it  seems  to  me 
you're  a-makin'  a  blamed  furss  about  nothin'.  Don't 
yell  so's  they'll  hear  you  three  or  four  mile.  You'll 
have  everybody  'tween  here  and  Clifty  waked  up." 
For  Mrs.  Means  had  become  so  excited  over  the 
idea  of  being  caught  allowing  Hannah  to  go  to 


THE  WALK   HOME.  95 

spelling-school  that  she  had  raised  her  last  "  Ketch 
me!  "  to  a  pertect  whoop. 

"That's the  way  I'm  treated,"  whimpered  the  old 
woman,  who  knew  how  to  take  the  "  injured  inno 
cence  "  dodge  as  well  as  anybody.  "  That's  the 
way  I'm  treated.  You  allers  take  sides  with  that 
air  hussy  agin  your  own  flesh  and  blood.  You  don't 
keer  how  much  trouble  I  have.  Not  you.  Net  a 
dog-on'd  bit.  I  may  be  disgraced  by  that  air  on- 
grateful  critter,  and  you  set  right  here  in  my  own 
house  and  sass  me  about  it.  A  purty  fellow  you 
air!  An*  me  a-delvin'  and  a-drudgin*  fer  you  all 
my  born  days.  A  purty  son,  a'n't  you  ?  " 

Bud  did  not  say  another  word.  He  sat  in  the 
chimney-corner  and  whistled  "  Dandy  Jim  from 
Caroline."  His  diversion  had  produced  the  effect 
he  sought :  for  while  .  his  tender-hearted  mother 
poured  her  broadside  into  his  iron-clad  feelings, 
Hannah  had  slipped  up  the  stairs  to  her  garret  bed 
room,  and  when  Mrs.  Means  turned  from  the  cal 
lous  Bud  to  finish  her  assault  upon  the  sensitive  girl, 
she  could  only  gnash  her  teeth  in  disappointment. 

Stung  by  the  insults  to  which  she  could  not  grow 
insensible,  Hannah  lay  awake  until  the  memory  of 
that  walk  through  the  darkness  came  into  her  soul 
like  a  benediction.  The  harsh  voice  of  the  scold 
died  out,  and  the  gentle  and  courteous  voice  ol 


$6  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

Hartsook  filled  her  soul.  She  recalled  piece  by 
piece  the  whole  conversation — all  the  commonplace 
remarks  about  the  weather;  all  the  insignificant  re 
marks  about  the  crops;  all  the  unimportant  words 
about  the  spelling-school.  Not  for  the  sake  of  the 
remarks.  Not  for  the  sake  of  the  weather.  Not 
for  the  sake  of  the  crops.  Not  for  the  sake  of  the 
spelling-school.  But  for  the  sake  of  the  undertone. 
And  then  she  traveled  back  over  the  three  years  of 
her  bondage  and  forward  over  the  three  years  to 
come,  and  fed  her  heart  on  the  dim  hope  of  re 
building  in  some  form  the  home  that  had  been 
so  happy.  And  she  prayed,  with  more  faith  than 
ever  before,  for  deliverance.  For  love  brings  faith. 
Somewhere  on  in  the  sleepless  night  she  stood  at 
the  window.  The  moon  was  shining  now,  and  there 
was  the  path  through  the  pasture,  and  there  was 
the  fence,  and  there  was  the  box-elder. 

She  sat  there  a  long  time.  Then  she  saw  some. 
one  come  over  the  fence  and  walk  to  the  tree,  and 
then  on  toward  Pete  Jones's.  Who  could  it  be  ? 
She  thought  she  recognized  the  figure.  But  she 
was  chilled  and  shivering,  and  she  crept  back  again 
into  bed,  and  dreamed  not  of  the  uncertain  days  to 
come,  but  of  the  blessed  days  that  were  past — of  a 
father  and  a  mother  and  a  brother  in  a  happy  home. 
But  somehow  the  school-master  was  there  too. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

A  NIGHT  AT  PETE  JONES'S. 

WHEN  Ralph  got  to  Pete  Jones's  he  found  that 
sinister-looking  individual  in  the  act  of  kicking  one 
of  his  many  dogs  out  of  the  house. 

"  Come  in,  stranger,  come  in.  You'll  find  this 
'ere  house  full  of  brats,  but  I  guess  you  kin  kick 
your  way  around  among  'em.  Take  a  cheer.  Here, 
git  out!  go  to  thunder  with  you !  "  And  with  these 
mild  imperatives  he  boxed  one  of  his  boys  over  in 
one  direction  and  one  of  his  girls  over  in  the  other. 
"  I  believe  in  trainin'  up  children  to  mind  when 
they're  spoke  to,"  he  said  to  Ralph  apologetically. 
But  it  seemed  to  the  teacher  that  he  wanted  them 
to  mind  just  a  little  before  they  were  spoken  to. 

"  P'raps  you'd  like  a  bed.  Well,  jest  climb  up 
the  ladder  on  the  outside  of  the  house.  Takes  up 
a  thunderin'  sight  of  room  to  have  a  stairs  inside, 
and  we  ha'n't  got  no  room  to  spare.  You'll  find  a 
bed  in  the  furdest  corner.  My  Pete's  already  got 
half  of  it,  and  you  can  take  t'other  half.  Ef  Pete 
goes  to  takin'  his  half  in  the  middle,  and  tryin*  to 
make  you  take  yourn  on  both  sides,  jest  kick  him." 
?  97 


98  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

In  this  comfortless  bed  "in  the  furdest  corner," 
Ralph  found  sleep  out  of  the  question.  Pete  took 
three-fourths  of  the  bed,  and  Hannah  took  all  of 
his  thoughts.  So  he  lay,  and  looked  out  through 
the  cracks  in  the  "  clapboards  "  (as  they  call  rough 
shingles  in  the  old  West)  at  the  stars.  For  the 
clouds  had  now  broken  away.  And  he  lay  thus 
recounting  to  himself,  as  a  miser  counts  the  pieces 
that  compose  his  hoard,  every  step  of  that  road 
from  the  time  he  had  overtaken  Hannah  in  the 
hollow  to  the  fence.  Then  he  imagined  again  the 
pleasure  of  helping  her  over,  and  then  he  retraced 
the  ground  to  the  box-elder  tree  at  the  spring,  and 
repeated  to  himself  the  conversation  until  he  came 
to  the  part  in  which  she  said  that  only  time  and 
God  could  help  her.  What  did  she  mean  ?  What 
was  the  hidden  part  of  her  life  ?  What  was  the 
connection  between  her  and  Shocky  ? 

Hours  wore  on,  and  still  the  mind  of  Ralph  Hart- 
sook  went  back  and  traveled  the  same  road,  over 
the  fence,  past  the  box-elder,  up  to  the  inexplicable 
part  of  the  conversation,  and  stood  bewildered 
with  the  same  puzzling  questions  about  the  bound 
girl's  life. 

At  last  he  got  up,  drew  on  his  clothes,  and  sat 
down  on  the  top  of  the  ladder,  looking  down  over 
the  blue-grass  pasture  which  lay  on  the  border  be- 


A  NIGHT  AT  PETE  JONES'S.  99 

tween  the  land  of  Jones  and  the  land  of  Means. 
The  earth  was  white  with  moonlight.  He  could  not 
sleep.  Why  not  walk  ?  It  might  enable  him  to 
sleep.  And  once  determined  on  walking,  he  did 
not  hesitate  a  moment  as  to  the  direction  in  which 
he  should  walk.  The  blue-grass  pasture  (was  it  not 
like  unto  the  garden  of  Eden  ?)  lay  right  before  him. 
That  box-elder  stood  just  in  sight.  To  spring  over 
the  fence  and  take  the  path  down  the  hill  and  over 
the  brook  was  as  quickly  done  as  decided  upon. 
To  stand  again  under  the  box-elder,  to  climb  again 
over  the  farther  fence,  and  to  walk  down  the  road 
toward  the  school-house  was  so  easy  and  so  de 
lightful  that  it  was  done  without  thought.  For 
Ralph  was  an  eager  man — when  he  saw  no  wrong 
in  anything  that  proposed  itself,  he  was  wont  to  fol 
low  his  impulse  without  deliberation.  And  this 
keeping  company  with  the  stars,  and  the  memory 
of  a  delightful  walk,  were  so  much  better  than  the 
commonplace  Flat  Creek  life  that  he  threw  himself 
into  his  night  excursion  with  enthusiasm. 

At  last  he  stood  in  the  little  hollow  where  he  had 
joined  Hannah.  It  was  the  very  spot  at  which 
Shocky,  too,  had  met  him  a  few  mornings  before. 
He  leaned  against  the  fence  and  tried  again  to  solve 
the  puzzle  of  Hannah's  troubles.  For  that  she  had 
troubles  he  did  not  doubt.  Neither  did  he  doubt 


100  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

that  he  could  help  her  if  he  could  discover  what 
they  were.  But  he  had  no  clue.  In  the  midst  of 
his  meditations  he  heard  the  thud  of  horses'  hoofs 
coming  down  the  road.  Until  that  moment  he  had 
not  felt  his  own  loneliness.  He  shrank  back  into 
the  fence-corner.  The  horsemen  were  galloping. 
There  were  three  of  them,  and  there  was  one  figure 
that  seemed  familiar  to  Ralph.  But  he  could  not 
tell  who  it  was.  Neither  could  he  remember  hav 
ing  seen  the  horse,  which  was  a  sorrel  with  a  white 
left  forefoot  and  a  white  nose.  The  men  noticed 
him  and  reined  up  a  little.  Why  he  should  have 
been  startled  by  the  presence  of  these  men  he  could 
not  tell,  but  an  indefinable  dread  seized  him.  They 
galloped  on,  and  he  stood  still  shivering  with  a 
nervous  fear.  The  cold  seemed  to  have  got  into 
his  bones.  He  remembered  that  the  region  lying 
on  Flat  Creek  and  Clifty  Creek  had  the  reputation 
of  being  infested  with  thieves,  who  practiced  horse- 
stealing  and  house-breaking.  For  ever  since  the 
day  when  Murrell's  confederate  bands  were  para 
lyzed  by  the  death  of  their  leader,  there  have  still 
existed  gangs  of  desperadoes  in  parts  of  Southern 
Indiana  and  Illinois,  and  in  Iowa,  Missouri,  Ken 
tucky,  and  the  South-west.  It  is  out  of  these  ma 
terials  that  border  ruffianism  has  grown,  and  the 
nine  members  of  the  Reno  band  who  were  hanged 


A  NIGHT  AT  PETE  JONES'S.  IOI 

two  or  three  years  ago  by  lynch  law,1  were  remains 
of  the  bad  blood  that  came  into  the  West  in  the 
days  of  Daniel  Boone.  Shall  I  not  say  that  these 
bands  of  desperadoes  still  found  among  the  "poor 
whitey,"  "  dirt-eater  "  class  are  the  outcroppings  of 
the  bad  blood  sent  from  England  in  convict-ships  ? 
Ought  an  old  country  to  sow  the  fertile  soil  of  a 
colony  with  such  noxious  seed  ? 

Before  Ralph  was  able  to  move,  he  heard  the 
hoofs  of  another  horse  striking  upon  the  hard 
ground  in  an  easy  pace.  The  rider  was  Dr.  Small. 
He  checked  his  horse  in  a  cool  way,  and  stood  still 
a  few  seconds  while  he  scrutinized  Ralph.  Then 
he  rode  on,  keeping  the  same  easy  gait  as  before. 
Ralph  had  a  superstitious  horror  of  Henry  Small. 
And,  shuddering  with  cold,  he  crept  like  a  thief  over 
the  fence,  past  the  tree,  through  the  pasture,  back 
to  Pete  Jones's,  never  once  thinking  of  the  eyes  that 
looked  out  of  the  window  at  Means's.  Climbing 
the  ladder,  he  got  into  bed,  and  shook  as  with  the 
ague.  He  tried  to  reason  himself  out  of  the  foolish 
terror  that  possessed  him,  but  he  could  not. 

Half  an  hour  later  he  heard  a  latch  raised.  Were 
the  robbers  breaking  into  the  house  below  ?  He 
heard  a  soft  tread  upon  the  floor.  Should  he  rise 
and  give  the  alarm  ?  Something  restrained  him. 

1  Written  in  1871. 


102  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

He  reflected  that  a  robber  would  be  sure  to  stumble 
over  some  of  the  "  brats."  So  he  lay  still  and  final 
ly  slumbered,  only  awakening  when  the  place  in 
which  he  slept  was  full  of  the  smoke  of  frying 
grease  from  the  room  below. 

At  breakfast  Pete  Jones  scowled.  He  was  evi 
dently  angry  about  something.  He  treated  Ralph 
with  a  rudeness  not  to  be  overlooked,  as  if  he  in 
tended  to  bring  on  a  quarrel.  Hartsook  kept  cool, 
and  wished  he  could  drive  from  his  mind  all  mem 
ory  of  the  past  night.  Why  should  men  on  horse 
back  have  any  significance  to  him  ?  He  was  trying 
to  regard  things  in  this  way,  and  from  a  general 
desire  to  keep  on  good  terms  with  his  host  he  went 
to  the  stable  to  offer  his  services  in  helping  to  feed 
the  stock. 

"Don't  want  no  saft -handed  help!"  was  all  he 
got  in  return  for  his  well-meant  offer.  But  just  as 
he  turned  to  leave  the  stable  he  saw  what  made 
him  tremble  again.  There  was  the  same  sorrel 
horse  with  a  white  left  forefoot  and  a  white  nose. 

To  shake  off  his  nervousness,  Ralph  started  to 
school  before  the  time.  But,  plague  upon  plagues! 
Mirandy  Means,  who  had  seen  him  leave  Pete 
Jones's,  started  just  in  time  to  join  him  where  he 
came  into  the  big  road.  Ralph  was  not  in  a  good 
humor  after  his  wakeful  night,  and  to  be  thus 


A  NIGHT  AT  PETE  JONES'S.  IO3 

dogged  by  Mirandy  did  not  help  the  matter.  So 
he  found  himself  speaking  crabbedly  to  the  daugh 
ter  of  the  leading  trustee,  in  spite  of  himself. 

"  Manner's  got  a  bad  cold  this  mornin'  from  bein' 
out  last  night,  and  she  can't  come  to  spellin'-school 
to-night,"  began  Mirandy,  in  her  most  simpering 
voice. 

Ralph  had  forgotten  that  there  was  to  be  an 
other  spelling-school.  It  seemed  to  him  an  age 
since  the  orthographical  conflict  of  the  past  night. 
This  remark  of  Mirandy's  fell  upon  his  ear  like  an 
echo  from  the  distant  past.  He  had  lived  a  lifetime 
since,  and  was  not  sure  that  he  was  the  same  man 
who  was  spelling  for  dear  life  against  Jim  Phillips 
twelve  hours  before.  But  he  was  sorry  to  hear  that 
Hannah  had  a  cold.  It  seemed  to  him,  in  his  de 
pressed  state,  that  he  was  to  blame  for  it.  In  fact, 
it  seemed  to  him  that  he  was  to  blame  for  a  good 
many  things.  He  seemed  to  have  been  committing 
sins  in  spite  of  himself.  Broken  nerves  and  sleep 
less  nights  often  result  in  a  morbid  conscience. 
And  what  business  had  he  to  wander  over  this  very 
road  at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  to  see  three 
galloping  horsemen,  one  of  them  on  a  horse  with  a 
white  left  forefoot  and  a  white  nose  ?  What  busi 
ness  had  he  watching  Dr.  Small  as  he  went  home 
from  the  bedside  of  a  dying  patient  near  daylight 


IO4  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

in  the  morning  ?  And  because  he  felt  guilty  he  felt 
cross  with  Mirandy,  and  to  her  remark  about  Han 
nah  he  only  replied  that "  Hannah  was^a  smart  girl." 

"Yes,"  said  Mirandy,  "  Bud  thinks  so." 

"Does  he?"  said  Ralph. 

"  I  should  say  so.  What's  him  and  her  been 
a-courtin'  fer  for  a  year  ef  he  didn't  think  she  was 
smart?  Marm  don't  like  it;  but  ef  Bud  and  her 
does,  and  they  seem  to,  I  don't  see  as  it's  marm's 
lookout." 

When  one  is  wretched,  there  is  a  pleasure  in  be 
ing  entirely  wretched.  Ralph  felt  that  he  must 
have  committed  some  unknown  crime,  and  that 
some  Nemesis  was  following  him.  Was  Hannah 
deceitful  ?  At  least,  if  she  were  not,  he  felt  sure 
that  he  could  supplant  Bud.  But  what  right  had 
he  to  supplant  Bud? 

"  Did  you  hear  the  news  ? "  cried  Shocky,  run 
ning  out  to  meet  him.  "  The  Dutchman's  house 
•  was  robbed  last  night." 

Ralph  thought  of  the  three  men  on  horseback, 
and  to  save  his  life  he  could  not  help  associating 
Dr.  Small  with  them.  And  then  he  remembered 
the  sorrel  horse  with  the  left  forefoot  and  muzzle 
white,  and  he  recalled  the  sound  he  had  heard  as  of 
the  lifting  of  a  latch.  And  it  really  seemed  to  him 
that  in  knowing  what  he  did  he  was  in  some  sense 
guilty  of  the  robbery.  • 


CHAPTER  VII. 

OMINOUS  REMARKS  OF  MR.  JONES. 

THE  school-master's  mind  was  like  ancient  Gaul — 
divided  into  three  parts.  With  one  part  he  mechan 
ically  performed  his  school  duties.  With  another 
he  asked  himself,  What  shall  I  do  about  the  rob 
bery  ?  And  with  the  third  he  debated  about  Bud 
and  Hannah.  For  Bud  was  not  present,  and  it  was 
clear  that  he  was  angry,  and  there  was  a  storm 
brewing.  In  fact,  it  seemed  to  Ralph  that  there 
was  a  storm  brewing  all  round  the  sky.  For  Pete 
Jones  was  evidently  angry  at  the  thought  of  having 
been  watched,  and  it  was  fair  to  suppose  that  Dr. 
Small  was  not  in  any  better  humor  than  usual. 
And  so,  between  Bud's  jealousy  and  revenge  and 
the  suspicion  and  resentment  of  the  men  engaged 
in  the  robbery  at  "  the  Dutchman's  "  (as  the  only 
German  in  the  whole  region  was  called),  Ralph's 
excited  nerves  had  cause  for  tremor.  At  one  mo 
ment  he  would  resolve  to  have  Hannah  at  all  costs. 
In  the  next  his  conscience  would  question  the  right- 
fulness  of  the  conclusion.  Then  he  would  make 


IO6  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

up  his  mind  to  tell  all  he  knew  about  the  robbery. 
But  if  he  told  his  suspicions  about  Small,  nobody 
would  believe  him.  And  if  he  told  about  Pete 
Jones,  he  really  could  tell  only  enough  to  bring 
vengeance  upon  himself.  And  how  could  he  ex 
plain  his  own  walk  through  the  pasture  and  down 
the  road  ?  What  business  had  he  being  out  of  bed 
at  two  o'clock  in  the  morning?  The  circumstantial 
evidence  was  quite  as  strong  against  him  as  against 
the  man  on  the  horse  with  the  white  left  forefoot 
and  the  white  nose.  Suspicion  might  fasten  on 
himself.  And  then  what  would  be  the  effect  on  his 
prospects  ?  On  the  people  at  Lewisburg  ?  On  Han 
nah  ?  It  is  astonishing  how  much  instruction  and 
comfort  there  is  in  a  bulldog.  This  slender  school 
master,  who  had  been  all  his  life  repressing  the 
animal  and  developing  the  finer  nature,  now  found 
a  need  of  just  what  the  bulldog  had.  And  so,  with 
the  thought  of  how  his  friend  the  dog  would  fight  in 
a  desperate  strait,  he  determined  to  take  hold  of 
his  difficulties  as  Bull  took  hold  of  the  raccoon. 
Moral  questions  he  postponed  for  careful  decision. 
But  for  the  present  he  set  his  teeth  together  in  a 
desperate,  bulldog  fashion,  and  he  set  his  feet  down 
slowly,  positively,  bulldoggedly.  After  a  wretched 
supper  at  Pete  Jones's  he  found  himself  at  the  spell 
ing-school,  which,  owing  to  the  absence  of  Hannah, 


OMINOUS  REMARKS  OP  MR.  JONES. 

and  the  excitement  about  the  burglary,  was  a  dull 
affair.  Half  the  evening  was  spent  in  talking  in 
little  knots.  Pete  Jones  had  taken  the  afflicted 
"  Dutchman  "  under  his  own  particular  supervision. 

"  I  s'pose,"  said  Pete,  "  that  them  air  fellers  what 
robbed  your  house  must  a  come  down  from  Jinkins 
Run.  They're  the  blamedest  set  up  there  I  ever 
see." 

"  Ya-as,"  said  Schroeder,  "  put  how  did  Yinkins 
vellers  know  dat  I  sell  te  medder  to  te  Shquire, 
hey  ?  How  tid  Yinkins  know  anyting  'bout  the 
Shquire's  bayin'  me  dree  huntert  in  te  hard  gash — 
hey  ?  " 

"Some  scoundrels  down  in  these  'ere  parts  is 
a-layin'  in  with  Jinkins  Run,  I'll  bet  a  hoss,"  said 
Pete.  Ralph  wondered  whether  he'd  bet  the  one 
with  the  white  left  forefoot  and  the  white  nose. 
"  Now,"  said  Pete,  "  ef  I  could  find  the  feller  that's 
a-helpin'  them  scoundrels  rob  us  folks,  I'd  help 
stretch  him  to  the  neardest  tree." 

"  So  vood  I,"  said  Schroeder.  "  I'd  shtretch  him 
dill  he  baid  me  my  dree  huntert  tollars  pack,  so  I 
vood." 

And  Betsey  Short,  who  had  found  the  whole 
affair  very  funny,  was  transported  with  a  fit  of  tit 
tering  at  poor  Schroeder's  English.  Ralph,  fearing 
that  his  silence  would  excite  suspicion,  tried  to  talk. 


108  THE   HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

But  he  could  not  tell  what  he  knew,  and  all  that  he 
said  sounded  so  hollow  and  hypocritical  that  it 
made  him  feel  guilty.  And  so  he  shut  his  mouth, 
and  meditated  profitably  on  the  subject  of  bull 
dogs.  And  when  later  he  overheard  the  garrulous 
Jones  declare  that  he'd  bet  a  hoss  he  could  p'int 
out  somebody  as  know'd  a  blamed  sight  more'n 
they  keerd  to  tell,  he  made  up  his  mind  that  if  it 
came  to  p'inting  out  he  should  try  to  be  even  with 
Jones. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  STRUGGLE  IN  THE  DARK. 

IT  was  a  long,  lonesome,  fearful  night  that  the 
school-master  passed,  lying  with  nerves  on  edge 
and  eyes  wide  open  in  that  comfortless  bed  in  the 
"  furdest  corner  "  of  the  loft  of  Pete  Jones's  house, 
shivering  with  cold,  while  the  light  snow  that  was 
falling  sifted  in  upon  the  ragged  patch-work  quilt 
that  covered  him.  Nerves  broken  by  sleeplessness 
imagine  many  things,  and  for  the  first  hour  Ralph 
felt  sure  that  Pete  would  cut  his  throat  before 
morning. 

And  you,  friend  Callow,  who  have  blunted  your 
palate  by  swallowing  the  Cayenne  pepper  of  the 
penny-dreadfuls,  you  wish  me  to  make  this  night 
exciting  by  a  hand-to-hand  contest  between  Ralph 
and  a  robber.  You  would  like  it  better  if  there 
were  a  trap-door.  There's  nothing  so  convenient 
as  a  trap-door,  unless  it  be  a  subterranean  passage. 
And  you'd  like  something  of  that  sort  just  here. 
It's  so  pleasant  to  have  one's  hair  stand  on  end,  you 
know,  when  one  is  safe  from  danger  to  one's  seJf. 

But  if  you  want  each  individual  hair  to  bristle  with 

109 


IIO  THE   HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

such  a  "  Struggle  in  the  Dark,"  you  can  buy  trap 
doors  and  subterranean  passages  dirt  cheap  at  the 
next  news-stand.  But  it  was,  indeed,  a  real  and 
terrible  "  Struggle  in  the  Dark  "  that  Ralph  fought 
out  at  Pete  Jones's. 

When  he  had  vanquished  his  fears  of  personal 
violence  by  reminding  himself  that  it  would  be  folly 
for  Jones  to  commit  murder  in  his  own  house,  the 
question  of  Bud  and  Hannah  took  the  uppermost 
place  in  his  thoughts.  And  as  the  image  of  Hannah 
spelling  against  the  master  came  up  to  him,  as  the 
memory  of  the  walk,  the  talk,  the  box-elder  tree, 
and  all  the  rest  took  possession  of  him,  it  seemed 
to  Ralph  that  his  very  life  depended  upon  his  secur 
ing  her  love.  He  would  shut  his  teeth  like  the 
jaws  of  a  bulldog,  and  all  Bud's  muscles  should 
not  prevail  over  his  resolution  and  his  stratagems. 

It  was  easy  to  persuade  himself  that  this  was 
right.  Hannah  ought  not  to  throw  herself  away 
on  Bud  Means.  Men  of  some  culture  always  play 
their  conceit  off  against  their  consciences.  To  a 
man  of  literary  habits  it  usually  seems  to  be  a  great 
boon  that  he  confers  on  a  woman  when  he  gives 
her  his  love.  Reasoning  thus,  Ralph  had  fixed  his 
resolution,  and  if  the  night  had  been  shorter,  or 
sleep  possible,  the  color  of  his  life  might  have  been 
changed. 


THE  STRUGGLE  IN  THE  DARK.  Ill 

But  some  time  along  in  the  tedious  hours  came 
the  memory  of  his  childhood,  the  words  of  his 
mother,  the  old  Bible  stories,  the  aspiration  after 
nobility  of  spirit,  the  solemn  resolutions  to  be  true 
to  his  conscience.  These  angels  of  the  memory 
came  flocking  back  before  the  animal,  the  bull- 
doggedness,  had  "  set,"  as  workers  in  plaster  say. 
He  remembered  the  story  of  David  and  Nathan, 
and  it  seemed  to  him  that  he,  with  all  his  abilities 
and  ambitions  and  prospects,  was  about  to  rob  Bud 
of  the  one  ewe-lamb,  the  only  thing  he  had  to  re 
joice  in  in  his  life.  In  getting  Hannah,  he  would 
make  himself  unworthy  of  Hannah.  And  then 
there  came  to  him  a  vision  of  the  supreme  value  of 
a  true  character;  how  it  was  better  than  success, 
better  than  to  be  loved,  better  than  heaven.  And 
how  near  he  had  been  to  missing  it !  And  how  cer 
tain  he  was,  when  these  thoughts  should  fade,  to 
miss  it !  He  was  as  one  fighting  for  a  great  prize 
who  feels  his  strength  failing  and  is  sure  of  defeat. 

This  was  the  real,  awful  "  Struggle  in  the  Dark." 
A  human  soul  fighting  with  heaven  in  sight,  but 
certain  of  slipping  inevitably  into  hell !  It  was  the 
same  old  battle.  The  Image  of  God  fought  with 
the  Image  of  the  Devil.  It  was  the  same  fight  that 
Paul  described  so  dramatically  when  he  represented 
the  Spirit  as  contending  with  the  Flesh.  Paul  also 


112  THE   HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

called  this  dreadful  something  the  Old  Adam,  and 
I  suppose  Darwin  would  call  it  the  remains  of  the 
Wild  Beast.  But  call  it  what  you  will,  it  is  the  bat 
tle  that  every  well-endowed  soul  must  fight  at  some 
point.  And  to  Ralph  it  seemed  that  the  final  vic 
tory  of  the  Evil,  the  Old  Adam,  the  Flesh,  the 
Wild  Beast,  the  Devil,  was  certain.  For,  was  not 
the  pure,  unconscious  face  cf  Hannah  on  the  Devil's 
side  ?  And  so  the  battle  had  just  as  well  be  given 
up  at  once,  for  it  must  be  lost  in  the  end. 

But  to  Ralph,  lying  there  in  the  still  darkness, 
with  his  conscience  as  wide  awake  as  if  it  were  the 
Day  of  Doom,  there  seemed  something  so  terrible 
in  this  overflow  of  the  better  nature  which  he  knew 
to  be  inevitable  as  soon  as  the  voice  of  conscience 
became  blunted,  that  he  looked  about  for  help.  He 
did  not  at  first  think  of  God;  but  there  came  into 
his  thoughts  the  memory  of  a  travel-worn  Galilean 
peasant,  hungry,  sleepy,  weary,  tempted,  tried,  like 
other  men,  but  having  a  strange,  divine  Victory  in 
him  by  which  everything  evil  was  vanquished  at 
his  coming.  He  remembered  how  He  had  reached 
out  a  Hand  to  every  helpless  one,  how  He  was  the 
Helper  of  every  weak  one.  And  out  of  the  depths 
of  his  soul  he  cried  to  the  Helper,  and  found  com 
fort.  Not  victory,  but,  what  is  better,  strength. 
And  so,  without  a  thought  of  the  niceties  of  theo- 


THE  STRUGGLE  IN  THE  DARK.  113 

logical  distinctions,  without  dreaming  that  it  was 
the  beginning  of  a  religious  experience,  he  found 
what  he  needed,  help.  And  the  Helper  gave  His 

beloved  sleep. 
8 


CHAPTER   IX. 

HAS  GOD   FORGOTTEN   SHOCKY  ? 

"  PAP  wants  to  know  ef  you  would  spend  to- 
morry  and  Sunday  at  our  house  ? "  said  one  of 
Squire  Hawkins's  girls,  on  the  very  next  evening, 
which  was  Friday.  The  old  Squire  was  thoughtful 
enough  to  remember  that  Ralph  would  not  find  it 
very  pleasant  "  boarding  out "  all  the  time  he  was 
entitled  to  spend  at  Pete  Jones's.  For  in  view  of 
the  fact  that  Mr.  Pete  Jones  sent  seven  children  to 
the  school,  the  "  master  "  in  Flat  Creek  district  was 
bound  to  spend  two  weeks  in  that  comfortable 
place,  sleeping  in  a  preoccupied  bed,  in  the  "  fur- 
dest  corner,"  with  insufficient  cover,  under  an  in 
sufficient  roof,  and  eating  floating  islands  of  salt 
pork  fished  out  of  oceans  of  hot  lard.  Ralph  was 
not  slow  to  accept  the  relief  offered  by  the  hospita 
ble  justice  of  the  peace,  whose  principal  business 
seemed  to  be  the  adjustment  of  the  pieces  of  which 
he  was  composed.  And  as  Shocky  traveled  the 
same  road,  Ralph  took  advantage  of  the  opportu 
nity  to  talk  with  him.  The  master  could  not  dis- 

114 


HAS   GOD  FORGOTTEN  SHOCKY  ?  1 1 5 

miss  Hannah  wholly  from  his  mind.  He  would  at 
least  read  the  mystery  of  her  life,  if  Shocky  could 
be  prevailed  on  to  furnish  the  clue. 

"Poor  old  tree!"  said  Shocky,  pointing  to  a 
crooked  and  gnarled  elm  standing  by  itself  in  the 
middle  of  a  field.  For  when  the  elm,  naturally  the 
most  graceful  of  trees,  once  gets  a  "  bad  set,"  it 
can  grow  to  be  the  most  deformed.  This  solitary 
tree  had  not  a  single  straight  limb. 

"  Why  do  you  say  '  poor  old  tree '  ? "  asked 
Ralph. 

"  'Cause  it's  lonesome.  All  its  old  friends  is 
dead  and  chopped  down,  and  there's  their  stumps 
a-standin'  jes  like  grave-stones.  It  must  be  lone 
some.  Some  folks  says  it  don't  feel,  but  I  think  it 
does.  Everything  seems  to  think  and  feel.  See  it 
nodding  its  head  to  them  other  trees  in  the  wood>, 
and  a-wantin'  to  shake  hands !  But  it  can't  move. 
I  think  that  tree  must  a  growed  in  the  night." 

"  Why,  Shocky  ?  " 

"  'Cause  it's  so  crooked,"  and  Shocky  laughed  at 
his  own  conceit ;  "  must  a  growed  when  they  was 
no  light  so  as  it  could  see  how  to  grow." 

And  then  they  walked  on  in  silence  a  minute. 
Presently  Shocky  began  looking  up  into  Ralph's 
eyes  to  get  a  smile.  "  I  guess  that  tree  feels  just 
like  me.  Don't  you  ?  " 


Il6  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

"  Why,  how  do  you  feel  ?  " 

"  Kind  o'  bad  and  lonesome,  and  like  as  if  I 
wanted  to  die,  you  know.  Felt  that  way  ever  sence 
they  put  my  father  into  the  graveyard,  and  sent 
my  mother  to  the  poor-house  and  Hanner  to  ole 
Miss  Means's.  What  kind  of  a  place  is  a  poor- 
house  ?  Is  it  a  poorer  place  than  Means's  ?  I  wish 
I  was  dead  and  one  of  them  clouds  was  a-carryin* 
me  and  Hanner  and  mother  up  to  where  father's 
gone,  you  know!  I  wonder  if  God  forgets  all  about 
poor  folks  when  their  father  dies  and  their  mother 
gits  into  the  poor-house  ?  Do  you  think  He  does  ? 
Seems  so  to  me.  Maybe  God  lost  track  of  my 
father  when  he  come  away  from  England  and 
crossed  over  the  sea.  Don't  nobody  on  Flat  Creek 
keer  fer  God,  and  I  guess  God  don't  keer  fer  Flat 
Creek.  But  I  would,  though,  ef  he'd  git  my  mother 
out  of  the  poor-house  and  git  Hanner  away  from 
Means's,  and  let  me  kiss  my  mother  every  night, 
you  know,  and  sleep  on  my  Hanner's  arm,  jes  like 
I  used  to  afore  father  died,  you  see." 

Ralph  wanted  to  speak,  but  he  couldn't.  And 
so  Shocky,  with  his  eyes  looking  straight  ahead, 
and  as  if  forgetting  Ralph's  presence,  told  over  the 
thoughts  that  he  had  often  talked  over  to  the  fence- 
rails  and  the  trees.  "  It  was  real  good  in  Mr. 
Pearson  to  take  me,  wasn't  it  ?  Else  I'd  a  been 


HAS  GOD  FORGOTTEN  SHOCK Y  ?  1 1/ 

bound  out  tell  I  was  twenty-one,  maybe,  to  some 
mean  man  like  Ole  Means.  And  I  a'n't  but  seven. 
And  it  would  take  me  fourteen  years  to  git  twenty- 
one,  and  I  never  could  live  with  my  mother  again 
after  Hanner  gets  done  her  time.  'Cause,  you  see, 
Hanner'll  be  through  in  three  more  year,  and  I'll 
.  be  ten  and  able  to  work,  and  we'll  git  a  little  place 
about  as  big  as  Granny  Sanders's,  and " 

Ralph  did  not  hear  another  word  of  what  Shocky 
said  that  afternoon.  For  there,  right  before  them, 
was  Granny  Sanders's  log-cabin,  with  its  row  of 
lofty  sunflower  stalks,  now  dead  and  dry,  in  front, 
with  its  rain-water  barrel  by  the  side  of  the  low 
door,  and  its  ash-barrel  by  the  fence.  In  this  cabin 
lived  alone  the  old  and  shriveled  hag  whose  hid- 
eousness  gave  her  a  reputation  for  almost  supernat 
ural  knowledge.  She  was  at  once  doctress  and 
newspaper.  She  collected  and  disseminated  medic 
inal  herbs  and  personal  gossip.  She  was  in  every 
regard  indispensable  to  the  intellectual  life  of  the 
neighborhood.  In  the  matter  of  her  medical  skill 
we  cannot  express  an  opinion,  for  her  "  yarbs  "  are 
not  to  be  found  in  the  pharmacopoeia  of  science. 

What  took  Ralph's  breath  was  to  find  Dr.  Small's 
fine,  faultless  horse  standing  at  the  door.  What 
did  Henry  Small  want  to  visit  this  old  quack  for  ? 


CHAPTER   X. 

THE  DEVIL  OF  SILENCE. 

RALPH  had  reason  to  fear  Small,  who  was  a 
native  of  the  same  village  of  Lewisburg,  and  some 
five  years  the  elder.  Some  facts  in  the  doctor's 
life  had  come  into  Ralph's  possession  in  such  a 
way  as  to  confirm  life-long  suspicion  without  giv 
ing  him  power  to  expose  Small,  who  was  firmly 
intrenched  in  the  good  graces  of  the  people  of  the 
county-seat  village  of  Lewisburg,  where  he  had 
grown  up,  and  of  the  little  cross-roads  village  of 
Clifty,  where  his  "  shingle  "  now  hung. 

Small  was  no  ordinary  villain.  He  was  a  genius. 
Your  ordinary  hypocrite  talks  cant.  Small  talked 
nothing.  He  was  the  coolest,  the  steadiest,  the 
most  silent,  the  most  promising  boy  ever  born  in 
Lewisburg.  He  made  no  pretensions.  He  set  up 
no  claims.  He  uttered  no  professions.  He  went 
right  on  and  lived  a  life  above  reproach.  Your 
vulgar  hypocrite  makes  long  prayers  in  prayer- 
meeting.  Small  did  nothing  of  the  sort.  He  sat 

still  in  prayer-meeting,  and  listened  to  the  elders  as 

n8 


THE  DEVIL   OF  SILENCE. 

a  modest  young  man  should.  Your  commonplace 
hypocrite  boasts.  Small  never  alluded  to  himself, 
and  thus  a  consummate  egotist  got  credit  for  mod 
esty.  It  is  but  an  indifferent  trick  for  a  hypocrite 
to  make  temperance  speeches.  Dr.  Small  did  not 
even  belong  to  a  temperance  society.  But  he  could 
never  be  persuaded  to  drink  even  so  much  as  a  cup 
of  tea.  There  was  something  sublime  in  the  quiet 
voice  with  which  he  would  say,  "  Cold  water,  if  you 
please,"  to  a  lady  tempting  him  with  smoking  coffee 
on  a  cold  morning.  There  was  no  exultation,  no 
sense  of  merit  in  the  act.  Everything  was  done  in 
a  modest  and  matter-of-course  way  beautiful  to 
behold.  And  his  face  was  a  neutral  tint.  Neither 
face  nor  voice  expressed  anything.  Only  a  keen 
reader  of  character  might  have  asked  whether  all 
there  was  in  that  eye  could  live  contented  with  this 
cool,  austere,  self-contained  life;  whether  there 
would  not  be  somewhere  a  volcanic  eruption.  But 
if  there  was  any  sea  of  molten  lava  beneath,  the 
world  did  not  discover  it.  Wild  boys  were  sick  of 
having  Small  held  up  to  them  as  the  most  immacu 
late  of  men.1 

Ralph  had  failed  to  get  two  schools  for  which  he 

1  The  original  from  which  this  character  was  drawn  is  here  de 
scribed  accurately.  The  author  now  knows  that  such  people  are  not 
to  be  put  into  books.  They  are  not  realistic  enough. 


120  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

had  applied,  and  had  attributed  both  failures  to 
certain  shrugs  of  Dr.  Small.  And  now,  when  he 
found  Small  at  the  house  of  Granny  Sanders,  the 
center  of  intelligence  as  well  as  of  ignorance  for 
the  neighborhood,  he  trembled.  Not  that  Small 
would  say  anything.  He  never  said  anything.  He 
damned  people  by  a  silence  worse  than  words. 

Granny  Sanders  was  not  a  little  flattered  by  the 
visit. 

"Why,  doctor,  howdy,  howdy!  Come  in,  take  a 
cheer.  I  am  glad  to  see  you.  I  'lowed  you'd  come. 
Old  Dr.  Flounder  used  to  say  he  larnt  lots  o'  things 
of  me.  But  most  of  the  doctors  sence  hez  been 
kinder  stuck  up,  you  know.  But  I  know'd  you  fer 
a  man  of  intelligence." 

Meantime,  Small,  by  his  grave  silence  and  atten 
tion,  had  almost  smothered  the  old  hag  with  flat 
tery.  "  Many's  the  case  I've  cured  with  yarbs  and 
things.  Nigh  upon  twenty  year  ago  they  was  a 
man  lived  over  on  Wild  Cat  Run  as  had  a  breakin'- 
out  on  his  side.  'Twas  the  left  side,  jes  below  the 
waist.  Doctor  couldn't  do  nothin'.  'Twas  Doctor 
Peacham.  He  never  would  have  nothin'  to  do 
with  'ole  woman's  cures.'  Well,  the  man  was  goin' 
to  die.  Everybody  seed  that.  And  they  come 
a-drivin'  away  over  here  all  the  way  from  the  Wild 
Cat.  Think  of  that  air !  I  never  was  so  flustered. 


MBS.  MEANS 


THE  DEVIL  OF  SILENCE.  121 

But  as  soon  as  I  laid  eyes  on  that  air  man,  I  says, 
says  I,  that  air  man,  says  I,  has  got  the  shingles, 
says  I.  I  know'd  the  minute  I  seed  it.  And  if 
they'd  gone  clean  around,  nothing  could  a  saved 
him.  I  says,  says  I,  git  me  a  black  cat.  So  I  jist 
killed  a  black  cat,  and  let  the  blood  run  all  over 
the  swellin'.  I  tell  you,  doctor,  they's  nothin'  like 
it.  That  man  was  well  in  a  month." 

"  Did  you  use  the  blood  warm  ? "  asked  Small, 
with  a  solemnity  most  edifying. 

These  were  almost  the  only  words  he  had  uttered 
since  he  entered  the  cabin. 

"  Laws,  yes ;  I  jest  let  it  run  right  out  of  the  cat's 
tail  onto  the  breakin'-out.  And  fer  airesipelus,  I 
don't  know  nothin'  so  good  as  the  blood  of  a  black 
hen." 

"  How  old  ?  "  asked  the  doctor. 

"There  you  showed  yer  science,  doctor!  They's 
no  power  in  a  pullet.  The  older  the  black  hen  the 
better.  And  you  know  the  cure  fer  rheumatiz  ?  " 
And  here  the  old  woman  got  down  a  bottle  of 
grease.  "  That's  ile  from  a  black  dog.  Ef  it's  ren 
dered  right,  it'll  knock  the  hind  sights  off  of  any 
rheumatiz  you  ever  see.  But  it  must  be  rendered 
in  the  dark  of  the  moon.  Else  a  black  dog's  ile 
a'h't  worth  no  more  nor  a  white  one's." 

And  all  this  time  Small  was  smelling  of  the  un- 


122  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

corked  bottle,  taking  a  little  on  his  finger  and  feel 
ing  of  it,  and  thus  feeling  his  way  to  the  heart — 
drier  than  her  herbs — of  the  old  witch.  And  then 
he  went  round  the  cabin  gravely,  lifting  each  sepa 
rate  bunch  of  dried  yarbs  from  its  nail,  smelling  of 
it,  and  then,  by  making  an  interrogation-point  of 
his  silent  face,  he  managed  to  get  a  lecture  from 
her  on  each  article  in  her  materia  medica,  with  the 
most  marvelous  stories  illustrative  of  their  virtues. 
When  the  Granny  had  got  her  fill  of  his  silent  flat 
tery,  he  was  ready  to  carry  forward  his  main  pur 
pose. 

There  was  something  weird  about  this  silent 
man's  ability  to  turn  the  conversation  as  he  chose 
to  have  it  go.  Sitting  by  the  Granny's  tea-table, 
nibbling  corn-bread  while  he  drank  his  glass  of  water, 
having  declined  even  her  sassafras,  he  ceased  to 
stimulate  her  medical  talk  and  opened  the  vein  of 
gossip.  Once  started,  Granny  Sanders  was  sure  to 
allude  to  the  robbery.  And  once  on  the  robbery 
the  doctor's  course  was  clear. 

"  I  'low  somebody  not  fur  away  is  in  this  'ere 
business! " 

Not  by  a  word,  nor  even  by  a  nod,  but  by  some 
motion  of  the  eyelids,  perhaps,  Small  indicated 
that  he  agreed  with  her. 

"  Who  d'ye  s'pose  'tis  ?  " 


THE  DEVIL  OF  SILENCE.  123 

But  Dr.  Small  was  not  in  the  habit  of  supposing. 
He  moved  his  head  in  a  quiet  way,  just  the  least 
perceptible  bit,  but  so  that  the  old  creature  under 
stood  that  he  could  give  light  if  he  wanted  to. 

"  I  dunno  anybody  that's  been  'bout  here  long  as 
could  be  suspected." 

Another  motion  of  the  eyelids  indicated  Small's 
agreement  with  this  remark. 

"  They  a'n't  nobody  come  in  here  lately  'ceppin' 
the  master." 

Small  looked  vacantly  at  the  wall. 

"  But  I  'low  he's  allers  bore  a  tip-top  character." 

The  doctor  was  too  busy  looking  at  his  corn- 
bread  to  answer  this  remark  even  by  a  look. 

"  But  I  think  these  oversmart  young  men'll  bear 
looking  arter,  /  do." 

Dr.  Small  raised  his  eyes  and  let  them  shine  an 
assent.  That  was  all. 

"  Shouldn't   wonder   ef   our   master  was   overly 

fond  of  gals." 

/ 

Doctor  looks  down  at  his  plate. 

"  Had  plenty  of  sweethearts  afore  he  walked 
home  with  Hanner  Thomson  t'other  night,  I'll  bet." 

Did  Dr.  Small  shrug  his  shoulder  ?  Granny 
thought  she  detected  a  faint  motion  of  the  sort, 
but  she  could  not  be  sure. 

"  And  I  think  as  how  that  a  feller  what  trifles 


124  THE  HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

with  gals'  hearts  and  then  runs  off  ten  miles,  may 
be  a'n't  no  better'n  he  had  orter  be.  That's  what 
I  says,  says  I." 

To  this  general  remark  Dr.  Small  assented  in  his 
invisible — shall  I  say  intangible  f — way. 

"  I  allers  think,  maybe,  that  some  folks  has  found 
it  best  to  leave  home  and  go  away.  You  can't 
never  tell.  But  when  people  is  a-bein'  robbed  it's 
well  to  lookout.  Hey  ?  " 

"  I  think  so,"  said  Small  quietly,  and,  having 
taken  his  hat  and  bowed  a  solemn  and  respectful 
adieu,  he  departed. 

He  had  not  spoken  twenty  words,  but  he  had 
satisfied  the  news-monger  of  Flat  Creek  that  Ralph 
was  a  bad  character  at  home  and  worthy  of  suspi 
cion  of  burglary. 


CHAPTER   XL 

MISS   MARTHA  HAWKINS. 

"  IT'S  very  good  for  the  health  to  dig  in  the  ele 
ments.  I  was  quite  emaciated  last  year  at  the 
East,  and  the  doctor  told  me  to  dig  in  the  elements. 
I  got  me  a  florial  hoe  and  dug,  and  it's  been  most 
excellent  for  me." *  Time,  the  Saturday  following 
the  Friday  on  which  Ralph  kept  Shocky  company 
as  far  as  the  "  forks  "  near  Granny  Sanders's  house. 
Scene,  the  Squire's  garden.  Ralph  helping  that 
worthy  magistrate  perform  sundry  little  jobs  such 
as  a  warm  winter  day  suggests  to  the  farmer.  Miss 
Martha  Hawkins,  the  Squire's  niece,  and  his  house 
keeper  in  his  present  bereaved  condition,  leaning 
over  the  palings — pickets  she  called  them — of  the 
garden  fence,  talking  to  the  master.  Miss  Hawkins 
was  recently  from  Massachusetts.  How  many  peo 
ple  there  are  in  the  most  cultivated  communities 
whose  education  is  partial! 

"  It's  very  common  for    school-master  to  dig  in 


1  Absurd  as  this  speech  seems,  it  is  a  literal  transcript  of  words 
spoken  in  the  author's  presence  by  a  woman  who,  like  Miss  Hawkins, 
was  born  in  Massachusetts. 

125 


126  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

the  elements  at  the  East,"  proceeded  Miss  Martha. 
Like  many  other  people  born  in  the  celestial  em 
pires  (of  which  there  are  three — China,  Virginia, 
Massachusetts),  Miss  Martha  was  not  averse  to  re 
minding  outside  barbarians  of  her  good  fortune  in 
this  regard.  It  did  her  good  to  speak  of  the  East. 
Now  Ralph  was  amused  with  Miss  Martha.  She 
really  had  a  good  deal  of  intelligence  despite  her 
affectation,  and  conversation  with  her  was  both  in 
teresting  and  diverting.  It  helped  him  to  forget 
Hannah,  and  Bud,  arid  the  robbery,  and  all  the  rest, 
and  she  was  so  delighted  to  find  somebody  to  make 
an  impression  on  that  she  had  come  out  to  talk 
while  Ralph  was  at  work.  But  just  at  this  mo 
ment  the  school-master  was  not  so  much  interested 
in  her  interesting  remarks,  nor  so  much  amused  by 
her  amusing  remarks,  as  he  should  have  been.  He 
saw  a  man  coming  down  the  road  riding  one  horse 
and  leading  another,  and  he  recognized  the  horses 
at  a  distance.  It  must  be  Bud  who  was  riding 
Means's  bay  mare  and  leading  Bud's  roan  colt. 
Bud  had  been  to  mill,  and  as  the  man  who  owned 
the  horse-mill  kept  but  one  old  blind  horse  himself, 
it  was  necessary  that  Bud  should  take  two.  It  re 
quired  three  horses  to  run  the  mill;  the  old  blind 
one  could  have  ground  the  grist,  but  the  two  others 
had  to  overcome  the  friction  of  the  clumsy  machine. 


MISS  MARTHA  HAWKINS.  I2/ 

But  it  was  not  about  the  horse-mill  that  Ralph 
was  thinking  nor  about  the  two  horses.  Since  that 
Wednesday  evening  on  which  he  escorted  Hannah 
home  from  the  spelling-school  he  had  not  seen  Bud 
Means.  If  he  had  any  lingering  doubts  of  the 
truth  of  what  Mirandy  had  said,  they  had  been  dis 
sipated  by  the  absence  of  Bud  from  school. 

"  When  I  was  to  Bosting "  Miss  Martha  was 

to  Boston  only  once  in  her  life,  but  as  her  visit  to 
that  sacred  city  was  the  most  important  occurrence 
of  her  life,  she  did  not  hesitate  to  air  her  reminis 
cences  of  it  frequently.  "  When  I  was  to  Bosting," 
she  was  just  saying,  when,  following  the  indication 
of  Ralph's  eyes,  she  saw  Bud  coming  up  the  hill  near 
Squire  Hawkins's  house.  Bud  looked  red  and 
sulky,  and  to  Ralph's  and  Miss  Martha  Hawkins's 
polite  recognitions  he  returned  only  a  surly  nod. 
They  both  saw  that  he  was  angry.  Ralph  was  able 
to  guess  the  meaning  of  his  wrath. 

Toward  evening  Ralph  strolled  through  the 
Squire's  cornfield  toward  the  woods.  The  memory 
Df  the  walk  with  Hannah  was  heavy  upon  the  heart 
of  the  young  master,  and  there  was  comfort  in  the 
very  miserableness  of  the  cornstalks  with  their  dis 
heveled  blades  hanging  like  tattered  banners  and 
rattling  discordantly  in  the  rising  wind.  Wander 
ing  without  purpose,  Ralph  followed  the  rows  of 


128  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

stalks  first  one  way  and  then  the  other  in  a  zigzag 
line,  turning  a  right  angle  every  minute  or  two.  At 
last  he  came  out  in  a  woods  mostly  of  beech,  and 
he  pleased  his  melancholy  fancy  by  kicking  the  dry 
and  silky  leaves  before  him  in  billows,  while  the 
soughing  of  the  wind  through  the  long,  vibrant 
boughs  and  slender  twigs  of  the  beech  forest  seemed 
to  put  the  world  into  the  wailing  minor  key  of  his 
own  despair. 

What  a  fascination  there  is  in  a  path  come  upon 
suddenly  without  a  knowledge  of  its  termination! 
Here  was  one  running  in  easy,  irregular  curves 
through  the  wood,  now  turning  gently  to  the  right 
in  order  to  avoid  a  stump,  now  swaying  suddenly 
to  the  left  to  gain  an  easier  descent  at  a  steep  place, 
and  now  turning  wantonly  to  the  one  side  or  the 
other,  as  if  from  very  caprice  in  the  man  who  by 
idle  steps  unconsciously  marked  the  line  of  the 
foot-path  at  first.  Ralph  could  not  resist  the  im 
pulse — who  could  ? — to  follow  the  path  and  find 
out  its  destination,  and  following  it  he  came  pres 
ently  into  a  lonesome  hollow,  where  a  brook  gur 
gled  among  the  heaps  of  bare  limestone  rocks  that 
filled  its  bed.  Following  the  path  still,  he  came 
upon  a  queer  little  cabin  built  of  round  logs,  in  the 
midst  of  a  small  garden-patch  inclosed  by  a  brush 
fence.  The  stick  chimney,  daubed  with  clay  and 


MISS  MARTHA   HAWKINS.  1 29 

topped  with  a  barrel  open  at  both  ends,  made  this 
a  typical  cabin. 

It  flashed  upon  Ralph  that  this  place  must  be 
Rocky  Hollow,  and  that  this  was  the  house  of  old 
John  Pearson,  the  one-legged  basket-maker,  and 
his  rheumatic  wife — the  house  that  hospitably  shel 
tered  Shocky.  Following  his  impulse,  he  knocked 
and  was  admitted,  and  was  not  a  little  surprised  to 
find  Miss  Martha  Hawkins  there  before  him. 

"  You  here,  Miss  Hawkins  ? "  he  said  when  he 
had  returned  Shocky's  greeting  and  shaken  hands 
with  the  old  couple. 

'*  Bless  you,  yes,"  said  the  old  lady.  "  That 
blessed  gyirl " — the  old  lady  called  her  a  girl  by  a 
sort  of  figure  of  speech  perhaps — "  that  blessed 
gyirl's  the  kindest  creetur  you  ever  saw — comes 
here  every  day,  most,  to  cheer  a  body  up  with 
somethin'  or  nuther." 

Miss  Martha  blushed,  and  said  "  she  came  be 
cause  Rocky  Hollow  looked  so  much  like  a  place 
she  used  to  know  at  the  East.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Pear 
son  were  the  kindest  people.  They  reminded  her 
of  people  she  knew  at  the  East.  When  she  was  to 
Bosting " 

Here  the  old  basket-maker  lifted  his  head  from 
his  work,  and  said :  "  Pshaw !  that  talk  about  kyind- 
ness"  (he  was  a  Kentuckian  and  said  kyindness)  "is 
9 


130  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER 

all  humbug.  I  wonder  so  smart  a  woman  as  you 
don't  know  better.  You  come  nearder  to  bein' 
kyind  than  anybody  I  know;  but,  laws  a  me!  we're 
all  selfish  akordin'  to  my  tell." 

"  You  wasn't  selfish  when  you  set  up  with  my 
father  most  every  night  for  two  weeks,"  said  Shocky, 
as  he  handed  the  old  man  a  splint. 

"Yes,  I  was,  too!"  This  in  a  tone  that  made 
Ralph  tremble.  "Your  father  was  a  miserable 
Britisher.  I'd  fit  red-coats,  in  the  war  of  eighteen- 
twelve,  and  lost  my  leg  by  one  of  'em  stickin'  his 
dog-on'd  bagonet  right  through  it,  that  night  at 
Lundy's  Lane ;  but  my  messmate  killed  him  though, 
which  is  a  satisfaction  to  think  on.  And  I  didn't 
like  your  father  'cause  he  was  a  Britisher.  But  ef 
he'd  a  died  right  here  in  this  free  country,  'thout 
nobody  to  give  him  a  drink  of  water,  blamed  ef  I 
wouldn't  a  been  ashamed  to  set  on  the  platform  at 
a  Fourth  of  July  barbecue,  and  to  hold  up  my 
wooden  leg  fer  to  make  the  boys  cheer!  That  was 
the  selfishest  thing  I  ever  done.  We're  all  selfish 
akordin'  to  my  tell." 

"  You  wasn't  selfish  when  you  took  me  that  night, 
you  know,"  and  Shocky's  face  beamed  with  grati 
tude. 

"  Yes,  I  war,  too,  you  little  sass-box !  What  did 
I  take  you  fer  ?  Hey  ?  Bekase  I  didn't  like  Pete 


CAPTAIN    PEARSON 


MISS   MARTHA   HAWKINS.  13! 

Jones  nor  Bill  Jones.  They're  thieves,  dog-on 
'em!  " 

Ralph  shivered  a  little.  The  horse  with  the 
white  forefoot  and  white  nose  galloped  before  his 
eyes  again. 

"  They're  a  set  of  thieves.  That's  what  they 
air." 

"  Please,  Mr.  Pearson,  be  careful.  You'll  get 
into  trouble,  you  know,  by  talking  that  way,"  said 
Miss  Hawkins.  "  You're  just  like  a  man  that  I 
knew  at  the  East." 

"  Why,  do  you  think  an  old  soldier  like  me,  hob 
bling  on  a  wooden  leg,  is  afraid  of  them  thieves  ? 
Didn't  I  face  the  Britishers  ?  Didn't  I  come  home 
late  last  Wednesday  night  ?  I  rather  guess  I  must 
a  took  a  little  too  much  at  Welch's  grocery,  and 
laid  down  in  the  middle  of  the  street  to  rest.  The 
boys  thought  'twas  funny  to  crate x  me.  I  woke 
up  kind  o'  cold,  'bout  one  in  the  mornin.'  'Bout 

*  When  the  first  edition  of  this  book  appeared,  the  critic  who  ana- 
lyzed  the  dialect  in  The  Nation  confessed  that  he  did  not  know  what 
to  "crate"  meant.  It  was  a  custom  in  the  days  of  early  Indiana 
barbarism  for  the  youngsters  of  a  village,  on  spying  a  sleeping  drunk 
ard,  to  hunt  up  a  "  queensware  crate  " — one  of  the  cages  of  round 
withes  in  which  crockery  was  shipped.  This  was  turned  upside 
down  over  the  inebriate,  and  loaded  with  logs  or  any  other  heavy  arti 
cles  that  would  make  escape  difficult  when  the  poor  wretch  should 
come  to  himself.  It  was  a  sort  of  rude  punishment  for  inebriety,  and 
it  afforded  a  frog-killing  delight  to  those  who  executed  justice. 


132  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

two  o'clock  I  come  up  Means's  hill,  and  didn't  I 
see  Pete  Jones,  and  them  others  that  robbed  the 
Dutchman,  and  somebody,  I  dunno  who,  a-crossin' 
the  blue-grass  paster  towards  Jones's  ?  "  (Ralph 
shivered.)  "  Don't  shake  your  finger  at  me,  old 
woman.  Tongue  is  all  I've  got  to  fight  with  now; 
but  I'll  fight  them  thieves  tell  the  sea  goes  dry,  I 
will.  Shocky,  gim  me  a  splint." 

"  But  you  wasn't  selfish  when  you  tuck  me." 
Shocky  stuck  to  his  point  most  positively. 

"  Yes,  I  was,  you  little  tow-headed  fool !  I  didn't 
take  you  kase  I  was  good,  not  a  bit  of  it.  I  hated 
Bill  Jones  what  keeps  the  poor-house,  and  I  knowed 
him  and  Pete  would  get  you  bound  to  some  of 
their  click,  and  I  didn't  want  no  more  thieves  raised ; 
so  when  your  mother  hobbled,  with  you  a-leadin' 
her,  poor  blind  thing!  all  the  way  over  here  on  that 
winter  night,  and  said,  '  Mr.  Pearson,  you're  all  the 
friend  I've  got,  and  I  want  you  to  save  my  boy,' 
why,  you  see  I  was  selfish  as  ever  I  could  be  in 
takin'  of  you.  Your  mother's  cryin' sot  mea-cryin' 
too.  We're  all  selfish  in  everything,  akordin'  to 
my  tell.  Blamed  ef  we  ha'n't,  Miss  Hawkins,  only 
sometimes  I'd  think  you  was  real  benev'lent  ef  I 
didn't  know  we  war  all  selfish." 


CHAPTER   XII. 

THE   HARDSHELL    PREACHER. 

"THEY'S  preachin'  down  to  Bethel  Meetin'-house 
to-day,"  said  the  Squire  at  breakfast.  Twenty  years 
in  the  West  could  not  cure  Squire  Hawkins  of  say 
ing  "  to  "  for  "  at."  "  I  rather  guess  as  how  the  old 
man  Bosaw  will  give  pertickeler  fits  to  our  folks  to 
day."  For  Squire  Hawkins,  having  been  expelled 
from  the  "  Hardshell  "  church  of  which  Mr.  Bosaw 
was  pastor,  for  the  grave  offense  of  joining  a  tem 
perance  society,  had  become  a  member  of  the  "  Re 
formers,"  the  very  respectable  people  who  now  call 
themselves  "  Disciples,"  but  whom  the  profane  will 
persist  in  calling  "  Campbellites."  They  had  a 
church  in  the  village  of  Clifty,  three  miles  away. 

I  know  that  explanations  are  always  abominable 
to  story  readers,  as  they  are  to  story  writers,  but 
as  so  many  of  my  readers  have  never  had  the  ines 
timable  privilege  of  sitting  under  the  gospel  as  it  is 
ministered  in  enlightened  neighborhoods  like  Flat 
Creek,  I  find  myself  under  the  necessity — need-ces- 

sity  the  Rev.  Mr.  Bosaw  would  call  it — of  rising  to 

133 


134  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

explain.  Some  people  think  the  "  Hardshells  "  a 
myth,  and  some  sensitive  Baptist  people  at  the  East 
resent  all  allusion  to  them.  But  the  "  Hardshell 
Baptists,"  or,  as  they  are  otherwise  called,  the 
"  Whisky  Baptists,"  and  the  "  Forty-gallon  Bap 
tists,"  exist  in  all  the  old  Western  and  South-west 
ern  States.  They  call  themselves  "Anti-means 
Baptists "  from  their  Antinomian  tenets.  Their 
confession  of  faith  is  a  caricature  of  Calvinism,  and 
is  expressed  by  their  preachers  about  as  follows: 
"  Ef  you're  elected,  you'll  be  saved;  ef  you  a'n't, 
you'll  be  damned.  God'll  take  keer  of  his  elect. 
It's  a  sin  to  run  Sunday-schools,  or  temp'rince  s'cie- 
ties,  or  to  send  missionaries.  You  let  God's  business 
alone.  What  is  to  be  will  be,  and  you  can't  hender 
it."  This  writer  has  attended  a  Sunday-school,  the 
superintendent  of  which  was  solemnly  arraigned 
and  expelled  from  the  Hardshell  Church  for  "  med 
dling  with  God's  business  "  by  holding  a  Sunday- 
school.  Of  course  the  Hardshells  are  prodigiously 
illiterate,  and  often  vicious.  Some  of  their  preachers 
are  notorious  drunkards.  They  sing  their  sermons 
out  sometimes  for  three  hours  at  a  stretch.1 

1  Even  the  Anti-means  Baptists  have  suffered  from  the  dire  spirit  of 
the  age.  They  are  to-day  a  very  respectable  body  of  people  calling 
themselves  "Primitive  Baptists."  Perhaps  the  description  in  the 
text  never  applied  to  the  whole  denomination,  but  only  to  the  Hard- 
shells  of  certain  localities.  Some  of  these  intensely  conservative 


THE  HARDSHELL  PREACHER.        135 

Ralph  found  that  he  was  to  ride  the  "  clay-bank 
mare,"  the  only  one  of  the  horses  that  would  "  carry 
double,"  and  that  consequently  he  would  have  to 
take  Miss  Hawkins  behind  him.  If  it  had  been 
Hannah  instead,  Ralph  might  not  have  objected  to 
this  "  young  Lochinvar  "  mode  of  riding  with  a  lady 
on  "  the  croup,"  but  Martha  Hawkins  was  another 
affair.  He  had  only  this  consolation ;  his  keeping 
the  company  of  Miss  Hawkins  might  serve  to  disarm 
the  resentment  of  Bud.  At  all  events,  he  had  no 
choice.  What  designs  the  Squire  had  in  this  arrange 
ment  he  could  not  tell ;  but  the  clay-bank  mare  car 
ried  him  to  meeting  on  that  December  morning,  with 

churches,  I  have  reason  to  believe,  were  always  composed  of  reputable 
people.  But  what  is  said  above  is  not  in  the  least  exaggerated  as  a 
description  of  many  of  the  churches  in  Indiana  and  Illinois.  Their 
opposition  to  the  temperance  reformation  was  both  theoretical  and 
practical.  A  rather  able  minister  of  the  denomination  whom  I  knew 
as  a  boy  used  to  lie  in  besotted  drunkenness  by  the  roadside.  I  am 
sorry  to  confess  that  he  once  represented  the  county  in  the  State  leg 
islature.  The  piece  of  a  sermon  given  in  this  chapter  was  heard 
near  Cairo,  Illinois,  in  the  days  before  the  war.  Most  of  the 
preachers  were  illiterate  farmers.  I  have  heard  one  of  them  hold 
forth  two  hours  at  a  stretch.  But  even  in  that  day  there  were  men 
among  the  Hardshells  whose  ability  and  character  commanded  re 
spect.  This  was  true,  especially  in  Kentucky,  where  able  men  like 
the  two  Dudleys  held  to  the  Antinomian  wing  of  their  denomination. 
But  the  Hardshells  are  perceptibly  less  hard  than  they  were.  You 
may  march  at  the  rear  of  the  column  among  Hunkers  and  Hardshells 
if  you  will,  but  you  are  obliged  to  march.  Those  who  will  not  go 
voluntarily,  the  time-spirit,  walking  behind,  prods  onward  with  a 
goad. 


136  THE   HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

Martha  Hawkins  behind.  And  as  Miss  Hawkins 
was  not  used  to  this  mode  of  locomotion,  she  was 
in  a  state  of  delightful  fright  every  time  the  horse 
sank  to  the  knees  in  the  soft,  yellow  Flat  Creek  clay. 

"  We  don't  go  to  church  so  at  the  East,"  she 
said.  "  The  mud  isn't  so  deep  at  the  East.  When 

I  was  to  Bosting "  but  Ralph  never  heard  what 

happened  when  she  was  to  Bosting,  for  just  as  she 
said  Bosting  the  mare  put  her  foot  into  a  deep  hole 
molded  by  the  foot  of  the  Squire's  horse,  and  al 
ready  full  of  muddy  water. 

As  the  mare's  foot  went  twelve  inches  down  into 
this  track,  the  muddy  water  spurted  higher  than 
Miss  Hawkins's  head,  and  mottled  her  dress  with 
golden  spots  of  clay.  She  gave  a  little  shriek,  and 
declared  that  she  had  never  "  seen  it  so  at  the  East." 

The  journey  seemed  a  little  long  to  Ralph,  who 
found  that  the  subjects  upon  which  he  and  Miss 
Hawkins  could  converse  were  few ;  but  Miss  Martha 
was  determined  to  keep  things  going,  and  once, 
when  the  conversation  had  died  out  entirely,  she 
made  a  desperate  effort  to  renew  it  by  remarking, 
as  they  met  a  man  on  horseback,  "  That  horse 
switches  his  tail  just  as  they  do  at  the  East.  When 
I  was  to  Bosting  I  saw  horses  switch  their  tails  just 
that  way." 

What  surprised  Ralph  was  to  see  that  Flat  Creek 


THE  HARDSHELL  PREACHER.        137 

went  to  meeting.  Everybody  was  there — the 
Meanses,  the  Joneses,  the  Bantas,  and  all  the  rest. 
Everybody  on  Flat  Creek  seemed  to  be  there,  ex 
cept  the  old  wooden-legged  basket-maker.  His 
family  was  represented  by  Shocky,  who  had  come, 
doubtless,  to  get  a  glimpse  of  Hannah,  not  to  hear 
Mr.  Bosaw  preach.  In  fact,  few  were  thinking  of 
the  religious  service.  They  went  to  church  as  a 
common  resort  to  hear  the  news,  and  to  find  out 
what  was  the  current  sensation. 

On  this  particular  morning  there  seemed  to  be 
some  unusual  excitement.  Ralph  perceived  it  as 
he  rode  up.  An  excited  crowd,  even  though  it  be 
at  a  church-door  on  Sunday  morning,  can  not  con 
ceal  its  agitation.  Ralph  deposited  Miss  Hawkins 
on  the  stile,  and  then  got  down  himself,  and  paid 
her  the  closest  attention  to  the  door.  This  atten 
tion  was  for  Bud's  benefit.  But  Bud  only  stood 
with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  scowling  worse  than 
ever.  Ralph  did  not  go  in  at  the  door.  It  was  not 
the  Flat  Creek  custom.  The  men  gossiped  outside, 
while  the  women  chatted  within.  Whatever  may 
have  been  the  cause  of  the  excitement,  Ralph  could 
not  get  at  it.  When  he  entered  a  little  knot  of 
people  they  became  embarrassed,  the  group  dis 
solved,  and  its  component  parts  joined  other  com 
panies.  What  had  the  current  of  conversation  to 


138  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

do  with  him  ?  He  overheard  Pete  Jones  saying 
that  the  blamed  old  wooden  leg  was  in  it  anyhow. 
He'd  been  seen  goin'  home  at  two  in  the  mornin'. 
And  he  could  name  somebody  else  ef  he  choosed. 
But  it  was  best  to  clean  out  one  at  a  time.  And 
just  then  there  was  a  murmur:  "  Meetin's  took 
up."  And  the  masculine  element  filled  the  empty 
half  of  the  "  hewed-log  "  church. 

When  Ralph  saw  Hannah  looking  utterly  de 
jected,  his  heart  smote  him,  and  the  great  struggle 
set  in  again.  Had  it  not  been  for  the  thought  of 
the  other  battle,  and  the  comforting  presence  of  the 
Helper,!  fear  Bud's  interests  would  have  fared  badly. 
But  Ralph,  with  the  spirit  of  a  martyr,  resolved  to 
wait  until  he  knew  what  the  result  of  Bud's  suit 
should  be,  and  whether,  indeed,  the  young  Goliath 
had  prior  claims,  as  he  evidently  thought  he  had. 
He  turned  hopefully  to  the  sermon,  determined  to 
pick  up  any  crumbs  of  comfort  that  might  fall  from 
Mr.  Bosaw's  meager  table. 

In  reporting  a  single  specimen  passage  of  Mr. 
Bosaw's  sermon,  I  shall  not  take  the  liberty  which 
Thucydides  and  other  ancient  historians  did,  of 
making  the  sermon  and  putting  it  into  the  hero's 
mouth,  but  shall  give  that  which  can  be  vouched 
for. 

"You  see,  my  respective  hearers,"  he  began— but 


THE  HARDSHELL  PREACHER.        139 

alas!  I  can  never  picture  to  you  the  rich  red  nose, 
the  see  sawing  gestures,  the  nasal  resonance,  the 
sniffle,  the  melancholy  minor  key,  and  all  that. 
"  My  respective  hearers-ah,  you  see-ah  as  how-ah  as 
my  tex'-ah  says  that  the  ox-ah  knoweth  his  owner-ah, 
and-ah  the  ass-ah  his  master's  crib-ah.  A-h-h!  Now, 
my  respective  hearers-ah,  they're  a  mighty  sight  of 
resemblance-ah  atwext  men-ah  and  oxen-ah  "  [Ralph 
could  not  help  reflecting  that  there  was  a  mighty 
sight  of  resemblance  between  some  men  and  asses. 
But  the  preacher  did  not  see  this  analogy.  It  lay 
too  close  to  him],  "  bekase-ah,  you  see,  men-ah  is 
mighty  like  oxen-ah.  Fer  they's  a  tremengious 
defference-ah  atwixt  defferent  oxen-ah,  jest  as  thar 
is  atwext  defferent  men-ah ;  fer  the  ox  knoweth-ah 
his  owner-ah,  and  the  ass-ah,  his  master's  crib-ah. 
Now,  my  respective  hearers-ah "  [the  preacher's 
voice  here  grew  mellow,  and  the  succeeding  sen- 
tences  were  in  the  most  pathetic  and  lugubrious 
tones],  "  you  all  know-ah  that  your  humble  speaker- 
ah  has  got-ah  jest  the  best  yoke  of  steers-ah  in  this 
township-ah."  [Here  Betsey  Short  shook  the  floor 
with  a  suppressed  titter.]  "  They  a'n't  no  sech 
steers  as  them  air  two  of  mine-ah  in  this  whole  keden- 
try-ah.  Them  crack  oxen  over  at  Clifty-ah  ha'n't  a 
patchin'  to  mine-ah.  Fer  the  ox  knoweth  his  own 
er-ah,  and  the  ass-ah  his  master's  crib-ah. 


140  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

"  Now,  my  respective  hearers-ah,  they's  a  right 
smart  sight  of  defference-ah  atwext  them  air  two 
oxen-ah,  jest  like  they  is  atwext  defferent  men-ah. 
Fer-ah  "  [here  the  speaker  grew  earnest,  and  sawed 
the  air,  from  this  to  the  close,  in  a  most  frightful 
way],  "  fer-ah,  you  see-ah,  when  I  go  out-ah  in  the 
mornin'-ah  to  yoke-ah  up-ah  them  air  steers-ah,  and 
I  says-ah,  "Wo,  Berry-ah!  Wo,  Berry-ah!  Wo, 
BERRY-AH',  why  Berry-ah  jest  stands  stock  still-ah 
and  don't  hardly  breathe-ah  while  I  put  on  the  yoke- 
ah,  and  put  in  the  bow-ah,  and  put  in  the  key-ah, 
fer,  my  brethering-ah  and  sistering-ah,  the  ox  know- 
eth  his  owner-ah,  and  the  ass-ah  his  master's  crib-ah. 
Hal-le-lu-ger-ah! 

"  But-ah,  my  hearers-ah,  but-ah  when  I  stand  at 
t'other  eend  of  the  yoke-ah,  and  say,  '  Come,  Buck- 
ah!  Come,  Buck-ah!  COME,  BUCK-AH!  COME, 
BUCK-AH  ! '  why  what  do  you  think-ah  ?  Buck- 
ah,  that  ornery  ole  Buck-ah,  'stid  of  comin*  right 
along-ah  and  puttin'  his  neck  under-ah,  acts  jest  like 
some  men-ah  what  is  fools-ah.  Buck-ah  jest  kinder 
sorter  stands  off-ah,  and  kinder  sorter  puts  his  head 
down-ah  this  'ere  way-ah,  and  kinder  looks  mad-ah, 
and  says,  Boo-00-OO-CO-tf^  /  " 

Alas!  Hartsook  found  no  spiritual  edification 
there,  and  he  was  in  no  mood  to  be  amused.  And 
so,  while  the  sermon  drew  on  through  two  dreary 


THE  HARDSHELL  PREACHER.        14! 

hours,  he  forgot  the  preacher  in  noticing  a  bright 
green  lizard  which,  having  taken  up  its  winter  quar 
ters  behind  the  tin  candlestick  that  hung  just  back 
of  the  preacher's  head,  had  been  deceived  by  the 
genial  warmth  coming  from  the  great  box-stove, 
and  now  ran  out  two  or  three  feet  from  his  shelter, 
looking  down  upon  the  red-nosed  preacher  in  a  most 
confidential  and  amusing  manner.  Sometimes  he 
would  retreat  behind  the  candlestick,  which  was  not 
twelve  inches  from  the  preacher's  head,  and  then 
rush  out  again.  At  each  reappearance  Betsey  Short 
would  stuff  her  handkerchief  into  her  mouth  and 
shake  in  a  most  distressing  way.  Shocky  wondered 
what  the  lizard  was  winking  at  the  preacher  about. 
And  Miss  Martha  thought  that  it  reminded  her  of  a 
lizard  that  she  see  at  the  East,  the  time  she  was  to 
Bosting,  in  a  jar  of  alcohol  in  the  Natural  History 
Rooms.  The  Squire  was  not  disappointed  in  his 
anticipation  that  Mr.  Bosaw  would  attack  his  de 
nomination  with  some  fury.  In  fact,  the  old  preacher 
outdid  himself  in  his  violent  indignation  at  "  these 
people  that  follow  Campbell-ah,  that  thinks-ah  that 
obejience-ah  will  save  'em-ah  and  that  belongs-ah 
to  temp'rince  societies-ah  and  Sunday-schools-ah, 
and  them  air  things-ah,  that's  not  ortherized  in  the 
Biblc-ah,  but  comes  of  the  devil-ah,  and  takes  folks 
as  belongs  to  'em  to  hell-ah." 


142  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

As  they  came  out  the  door  Ralph  rallied  enough 
to  remark:  "  He  did  attack  your  people,  Squire." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  the  Squire.  "  Didn't  you  see 
the  Sarpent  inspirin'  him  ?  " 

But  the  long,  long  hours  were  ended  and  Ralph 
got  on  the  clay-bank  mare  and  rode  up  alongside 
the  stile  whence  Miss  Martha  mounted.  And  as 
he  went  away  with  a  heavy  heart,  he  overheard  Pete 
Jones  call  out  to  somebody: 

"We'll  tend  to  his  case  a  Christmas."  Christ 
mas  was  two  days  off. 

And  Miss  Martha  remarked  with  much  trepida 
tion  that  poor  Pearson  would  have  to  leave.  She'd 
always  been  afraid  that  would  be  the  end  of  it.  It 
reminded  her  of  something  she  heard  at  the  East 
"•be  time  she  was  down  to  Bosting. 


CHAPTER   XITI. 

A  STRUGGLE  FOR  THE  MASTERY. 

THE  school  had  closed  on  Monday  evening  as 
usual.  The  boys  had  been  talking  in  knots  all  day. 
Nothing  but  the  bulldog  in  the  slender,  reso^te 
young  master  had  kept  down  the  rising  storm.  A 
teacher  who  has  lost  moral  support  at  home, 
can  not  long  govern  a  school.  Ralph  had  effectu 
ally  lost  his  popularity  in  the  district,  and  the  worst 
of  it  was  that  he  could  not  divine  from  just  what 
quarter  the  ill  wind  came,  except  that  he  felt  sure 
of  Small's  agency  in  it  somewhere.  Even  Hannah 
had  slighted  him,  when  he  called  at  Means's  on  Mon 
day  morning  to  draw  the  pittance  of  pay  that  was 
due  him. 

He  had  expected  a  petition  for  a  holiday  on  Christ 
mas  day.  Such  holidays  are  deducted  from  the 
teacher's  time,  and  it  is  customary  for  the  boys  to 
"turn  out"  the  teacher  who  refuses  to  grant  them, 
by  barring  him  out  of  the  school-house  on  Christ 
mas  and  New  Year's  morning.  Ralph  had  intended 
to  grant  a  holiday  if  it  should  be  asked,  but  it  was 

143  \ 


144  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

not  asked.  Hank  Banta  was  the  ringleader  in  the 
disaffection,  and  he  had  managed  to  draw  the  surly 
Bud,  who  was  present  this  morning,  into  it.  It  is 
but  fair  to  say  that  Bud  was  in  favor  of  making  a 
request  before  resorting  to  extreme  measures,  but 
he  was  overruled.  He  gave  it  as  his  solemn  opin 
ion  that  the  master  was  mighty  peart,  and  they 
would  be  beat  anyhow  some  way,  but  he  would 
lick  the  master  fer  two  cents  ef  he  warn't  so  slim 
that  he'd  feel  like  he  was  fighting  a  baby. 

And  all  that  day  things  looked  black.  Ralph's 
countenance  was  cold  and  hard  as  stone,  and  Shocky 
trembled  where  he  sat.  Betsey  Short  tittered  rather 
more  than  usual.  A  riot  or  a  murder  would  have 
seemed  amusing  to  her. 

School  was  dismissed,  and  Ralph,  instead  of  re 
turning  to  the  Squire's,  set  out  for  the  village  of 
Clifty,  a  few  miles  away.  No  one  knew  what  he 
went  for,  and  some  suggested  that  he  had  "  sloped." 

But  Bud  said  "  he  warn't  that  air  kind.  He  was 
one  of  them  air  sort  as  died  in  their  tracks,  was  Mr. 
Hartsook.  They'd  find  him  on  the  ground  nex' 
morning,  and  he  'lowed  the  master  war  made  of 
that  air  sort  of  stuff  as  would  burn  the  dog-on'd  ole 
school-house  to  ashes,  or  blow  it  into  splinters,  but 
what  he'd  beat.  Howsumdever  he'd  said  he  was 
a-goin'  to  help,  and  help  he  would ;  but  all  the  sinno 


A  STRUGGLE  FOR  THE  MASTERY.  145 

in  Golier  wouldn't  be  no  account  again  the  cute  they 
was  in  the  head  of  the  master." 

Bnt  Bud,  discouraged  as  he  was  with  the  fear  of 
Ralph's  "  cute,"  went  like  a  martyr  to  the  stake  and 
took  his  place  with  the  rest  in  the  school-house  at 
nine  o'clock  at  night.  It  may  have  been  Ralph's 
intention  to  preoccupy  the  school-house,  for  at 
ten  o'clock  Hank  Banta  was  set  shaking  from 
head  to  foot  at  seeing  a  face  that  looked  like  the 
master's  at  the  window.  He  waked  up  Bud  and 
told  him  about  it. 

"  Well,  what  are  you  a-tremblin'  about,  you  cow 
ard  ?"  growled  Bud.  "  He  won't  shoot  you;  but 
he'll  beat  you  at  this  game,  I'll  bet  a  hoss,  and  me, 
too,  and  make  us  both  as  'shamed  of  ourselves  as 
dogs  with  tin-kittles  to  their  tails.  You  don't  know 
the  master,  though  he  did  duck  you.  But  he'll  larn 
you  a  good  lesson  this  time,  and  me  too,  like  as  not." 
And  Bud  soon  snored  again,  but  Hank  shook  with 
fear  every  time  he  looked  at  the  blackness  outside 
the  windows.  He  was  sure  he  heard  foot-falls.  He 
would  have  given  anything  to  have  been  at  home. 

When  morning  came,  the  pupils  began  to  gather 
early.  A  few  boys  who  were  likely  to  prove  of 
service  in  the  coming  siege  were  admitted  through 
the  window,  and  then  everything  was  made  fast, 

and  a  "  snack  "  was  eaten. 
10 


146  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

"  How  do  you  'low  he'll  get  in  ?  "  said  Hank,  try. 
ing  to  hide  his  fear. 

"How  do  I  'low?"  said  Bud.  "I  don't  'low 
nothin'  about  it.  You  might  as  well  ax  me  where 
I  'low  the  nex'  shootin'  star  is  a-goin'  to  drap.  Mr. 
Hartsook's  mighty  onsartin.  But  he'll  git  in,  though, 
and  tan  your  hide  fer  you,  you  see  ef  he  don't.  Ef 
he  don't  blow  up  the  school-house  with  gunpow 
der!  "  This  last  was  thrown  in  by  way  of  alleviat 
ing  the  fears  of  the  cowardly  Hank,  for  whom  Bud 
had  a  great  contempt. 

The  time  for  school  had  almost  come.  The  boys 
inside  were  demoralized  by  waiting.  They  began 
to  hope  that  the  master  had  "  sloped."  They 
dreaded  to  see  him  coming. 

"I  don't  believe  he'll  come,"  said  Hank,  with  a 
cold  shiver.  "  It's  past  school-time." 

"Yes,  he  will  come,  too,"  said  Bud.  "And  he 
'lows  to  come  in  here  mighty  quick.  I  don't  know 
how.  But  he'll  be  a-standin'  at  that  air  desk  when 
it's  nine  o'clock.  I'll  bet  a  thousand  dollars  on 
that.  Ef  he  don't  take  it  into  his  head  to  blow  us 
up  !  "  Hank  was  now  white. 

Some  of  the  parents  came  along,  accidentally  of 
course,  and  stopped  to  see  the  fun,  sure  that  Bud 
would  thrash  the  master  if  he  tried  to  break  in. 
Small,  on  the  way  to  see  a  patient  perhaps,  reined 


A  STRUGGLE  FOR  THE  MASTERY.  147 

up  in  front  of  the  door.  Still  no  Ralph.  It  was 
just  five  minutes  before  nine.  A  rumor  now  gained 
currency  that  he  had  been  seen  going  to  Clifty  the 
evening  before,  and  that  he  had  not  come  back, 
though  in  fact  Ralph  had  come  back,  and  had  slept 
at  Squire  Hawkins's. 

"  There's  the  master,"  cried  Betsey  Short,  who 
stood  out  in  the  road  shivering  and  giggling  alter 
nately.  For  Ralph  at  that  moment  emerged  from 
the  sugar-camp  by  the  school-house,  carrying  a 
board. 

"  Ho !  ho !  "  laughed  Hank,  "  he  thinks  he'll  smoke 
us  out.  I  guess  he'll  find  us  ready."  The  boys 
had  let  the  fire  burn  down,  and  there  was  now  noth 
ing  but  hot  hickory  coals  on  the  hearth. 

"  I  tell  you  he'll  come  in.  He  didn't  go  to  Clifty 
fer  nothin',"  said  Bud,  who  sat  still  on  one  of  the 
benches  which  leaned  against  the  door.  "  I  don't 
know  how,  but  they's  lots  of  ways  of  killing  a  cat 
besides  chokin'  her  with  butter.  He'll  come  in — 
e/he  don't  blow  us  all  sky-high! " 

Ralph's  voice  was  now  heard,  demanding  that  the 
door  be  opened. 

"  Let's  open  her,"  said  Hank,  turning  livid  with 
fear  at  the  firm,  confident  tone  of  the  master. 

Bud  straightened  himself  up.  "  Hank,  you're  a 
coward.  I've  got  a  mind  to  kick  you.  You  got  me 


148  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

into  this  blamed  mess,  and  now  you  want  to  craw 
fish.  You  jest  tech  one  of  these  'ere  fastenin's,  and 
I'll  lay  you  out  flat  of  your  back  afore  you  can 
say  Jack  Robinson." 

The  teacher  was  climbing  to  the  roof  with  the 
board  in  hand. 

"  That  air  won't  win,"  laughed  Pete  Jones  out 
side.  He  saw  that  there  was  no  smoke.  Even  Bud 
began  to  hope  that  Ralph  would  fail  for  once.  The 
master  was  now  on  the  ridge-pole  of  the  school- 
house.  He  took  a  paper  from  his  pocket,  and  de 
liberately  poured  the  contents  down  the  chimney. 

Mr.  Pete  Jones  shouted  "Gunpowder!"  and 
set  off  down  the  road  to  be  out  of  the  way  of  the 
explosion.  Dr.  Small  remembered,  probably,  that 
his  patient  might  die  while  he  sat  here,  and  started 
on. 

But  Ralph  emptied  the  paper,  and  laid  the  board 
over  the  chimney.  What  a  row  there  was  inside ! 
The  benches  that  were  braced  against  the  door  were 
thrown  down,  and  Hank  Banta  rushed  out,  rubbing 
his  eyes,  coughing  frantically,  and  sure  that  he  had 
been  blown  up.  All  the  rest  followed,  Bud  bring 
ing  up  the  rear  sulkily,  but  coughing  and  sneezing 
for  dear  life.  Such  a  smell  of  sulphur  as  came  from 
that  school-house! 

Betsey  had  to  lean  against  the  fence  to  giggle. 


FIRE  AND  BRIMSTONE 


A  STRUGGLE  FOR  THE  MASTERY.  149 

As  soon  as  all  were  out,  Ralph  threw  the  board 
off  the  chimney,  leaped  to  the  ground,  entered  the 
school-house,  and  opened  the  windows.  The  school 
soon  followed  him,  and  all  was  still. 

"  Would  he  thrash  ?  "  This  was  the  important 
question  in  Hank  Banta's  mind.  And  the  rest 
looked  for  a  battle  with  Bud. 

"  It  is  just  nine  o'clock,"  said  Ralph,  consulting 
his  watch,  "  and  I'm  glad  to  see  you  all  here  prompt 
ly.  I  should  have  given  you  a  holiday  if  you  had 
asked  me  like  gentlemen  yesterday.  On  the  whole, 
I  think  I  shall  give  you  a  holiday,  anyhow.  The 
school  is  dismissed." 

And  Hank  felt  foolish. 

And  Bud  secretly  resolved  to  thrash  Hank  or  the 
master,  he  didn't  care  which. 

And  Mirandy  looked  the  love  she  could  not  utter. 

And  Betsey  giggled. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

A    CRISIS     WITH     BUD. 

RALPH  sat  still  at  his  desk.  The  school  had  gone. 
All  at  once  he  became  conscious  that  Shocky  sat 
yet  in  his  accustomed  place  upon  the  hard,  backless 
bench. 

"  Why,  Shocky,  haven't  you  gone  yet  ?  " 

"  No — sir — I  was  waitin*  to  see  if  you  warn't 
a-goin',  too — I " 

"Well?" 

"  I  thought  it  would  make  me  feel  as  if  God 
warn't  quite  so  fur  away  to  talk  to  you.  It  did  the 
other  day." 

The  master  rose  and  put  his  hand  on  Shocky's 
head.  Was  it  the  brotherhood  in  affliction  that 
made  Shocky's  words  choke  him  so  ?  Or,  was  it 
the  weird  thoughts  that  he  expressed?  Or,  was  it 
the  recollection  that  Shocky  was  Hannah's  brother  ? 
Hannah  so  far,  far  away  from  him  now!  At  any 
rate,  Shocky,  looking  up  for  the  smile  on  which  he 
fed,  saw  the  relaxing  of  the  master's  face,  that  had 
been  as  hard  as  stone,  and  felt  just  one  hot  tear  on 

his  hand. 

150 


A  CRISIS  WITH   BUD.  151 

"  P'r'aps  God's  forgot  you,  too,"  said  Shocky  in 
a  sort  of  half  soliloquy.  "  Better  get  away  from 
Flat  Creek.  You  see  God  forgets  everybody  down 
here.  'Cause  'most  everybody  forgets  God,  'cept 
Mr.  Bosaw,  and  I  'low  God  don't  no  ways  keer  to 
be  remembered  by  sich  as  him.  Leastways  I  wouldn't 
if  I  was  God,  you  know.  I  wonder  what  becomes 
of  folks  when  God  forgets  'em  ? "  And  Shocky, 
seeing  that  the  master  had  resumed  his  seat  and  was 
looking  absently  into  the  fire,  moved  slowly  out  the 
door. 

"Shocky!"  called  the  master. 

The  little  poet  came  back  and  stood  before  him. 

"  Shocky,  you  mustn't  think  God  has  forgotten 
you.  God  brings  things  out  right  at  last."  But 
Ralph's  own  faith  was  weak,  and  his  words  sounded 
hollow  and  hypocritical  to  himself.  Would  God  in 
deed  bring  things  out  right  ? 

He  sat  musing  a  good  while,  trying  to  convince 
himself  of  the  truth  of  what  he  had  just  been  say 
ing  to  Shocky — that  God  would  indeed  bring  things 
out  right  at  last.  Would  it  all  come  out  right  if 
Bud  married  Hannah  ?  Would  it  all  come  out  right 
if  he  were  driven  from  Flat  Creek  with  a  dark  sus 
picion  upon  his  character  ?  Did  God  concern  him 
self  with  these  things  ?  Was  there  any  God  ?  It 
was  the  same  old  struggle  between  Doubt  and 


152  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

Faith.  And  when  Ralph  looked  up,  Shocky  had 
departed. 

In  the  next  hour  Ralph  fought  the  old  battle  of 
Armageddon.  I  shall  not  describe  it.  You  will  fight 
it  in  your  own  way.  No  two  alike.  The  important 
thing  is  the  End.  If  you  come  out  as  he  did,  with 
the  doubt  gone  and  the  trust  in  God  victorious,  it 
matters  little  just  what  shape  the  battle  may  take. 
Since  Jacob  became  Israel  there  have  never  been 
two  such  struggles  alike,  save  in  that  they  all  end 
either  in  victory  or  in  defeat. 

It  was  after  twelve  o'clock  on  that  Christmas  day 
when  Ralph  put  his  head  out  the  door  of  the  school- 
house  and  called  out:  "Bud,  I'd  like  to  see  you." 

Bud  did  not  care  to  see  the  master,  for  he  had 
inly  resolved  to  "  thrash  him  "  and  have  done  with 
him.  But  he  couldn't  back  out,  certainly  not  in 
sight  of  the  others  who  were  passing  along  the  road 
with  him. 

"  I  don't  want  the  rest  of  you,"  said  Ralph  in  a 
decided  way,  as  he  saw  that  Hank  and  one  or  two 
others  were  resolved  to  come  also. 

"Thought  maybe  you'd  want  somebody  to  see 
far  play,"  said  Hank  as  he  went  off  sheepishly. 

"  If  I  did,  you  would  be  the  last  one  I  should  ask," 
said  Ralph.  "  There's  no  unfair  play  in  Bud,  and 
there  is  in  you."  And  he  shut  the  door. 


A  CRISIS  WITH  BUD.  1 53 

"  Now,  looky  here,  Mr.  Ralph  Hartsook,"  said 
Bud.  "You  don't  come  no  gum  games  over  me 
with  your  saft  sodder  and  all  that.  I've  made  up 
my  mind.  You've  got  to  promise  to  leave  these 
'ere  diggins,  or  I've  got  to  thrash  you." 

"You'll  have  to  thrash  me,  then,"  said  Ralph, 
turning  a  little  pale,  but  remembering  the  bulldog. 
"  But  you'll  tell  me  what  it's  all  about,  won't  you?  " 

"  You  know  well  enough.  Folks  says  you  know 
more  'bout  the  robbery  at  the  Dutchman's  than  you 
orter.  But  I  don't  believe  them.  Fer  them  as  says 
it  is  liars  and  thieves  theirselves.  'Ta'n't  fer  none 
of  that.  And  I  shan't  tell  you  what  it  is  fer.  So 
now,  if  you  won't  travel,  why,  take  off  your  coat 
and  git  ready  fer  a  thrashing." 

The  master  took  off  his  coat  and  showed  his  slen 
der  arms.  Bud  laid  his  off,  and  showed  the  physique 
of  a  prize-fighter. 

"You  a'n't  a-goin  to  fight  me?"  said  Bud. 

"  Not  unless  you  make  me." 

"  Why  I  could  chaw  you  all  up." 

"I  know  that." 

"  Well,  you're  the  grittiest  feller  I  ever  did  see, 
and  ef  you'd  jest  kep  off  of  my  ground  I  wouldn't 
a  touched  you.  But  I  a'n't  a-goin'  to  be  cut  out  by 
no  feller  a  livin'  'thout  thrashin'  him  in  an  inch  of 
his  life.  You  see  I  wanted  to  git  out  of  this  Flat 


154  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

Crick  way.  We're  a  low-lived  set  here  in  Flat  Crick. 
And  I  says  to  myself,  I'll  try  to  be  somethin'  more 
nor  Pete  Jones,  and  dad,  and  these  other  triflin', 
good-fer-nothin'  ones  'bout  here.  And  when  you 
come  I  says,  There's  one  as'll  help  me.  And  what 
do  you  do  with  yor  book-larnin'  and  town  manners 
but  start  right  out  to  git  away  the  gal  that  I'd  picked 
out,  when  I'd  picked  her  out  kase  I  thought,  not 
bein'  Flat  Crick  born  herself,  she  might  help  a  feller 
to  do  better!  Now  I  won't  let  nobody  cut  me  out 
without  givin'  'em  the  best  thrashin'  it's  in  these 
'ere  arms  to  give." 

"  But  I  haven't  tried  to  cut  you  out." 

" You  can't  fool  me" 

"  Bud,  listen  to  me,  and  then  thrash  me  if  you 
will.  I  went  with  that  girl  once.  When  I  found 
you  had  some  claims,  I  gave  her  up.  Not  because 
I  was  afraid  of  you,  for  I  would  rather  have  taken 
the  worst  thrashing  you  can  give  me  than  give  her 
up.  But  I  haven't  spoken  to  her  since  the  night  of 
the  first  spelling-school." 

"You  lie!"  said  Bud,  doubling  his  fists. 

Ralph  grew  red. 

"You  was  a-waitin'  on  her  last  Sunday  right 
afore  my  eyes,  and  a-tryin*  to  ketch  my  attention 
too.  So  when  you're  ready  say  so." 

"  Bud,  there  is  some  misunderstanding."     Hart- 


A  CRISIS  WITH  BUD.  155 

sook  spoke  slowly  and  felt  bewildered.  "  I  tell  you 
that  I  did  not  speak  to  Hannah  last  Sunday,  and 
you  know  I  didn't." 

"Hanner!"  Bud's  eyes  grew  large.  "Hanner!" 
Here  he  gasped  for  breath,  and  looked  around. 
"  Hanner!  "  He  couldn't  get  any  further  than  the 
name  at  first.  "  Why,  plague  take  it,  who  said  Han 
ner  ?" 

"  Mirandy  said  you  were  courting  Hannah,"  said 
Ralph,  feeling  round  in  a  vague  way  to  get  his  ideas 
together. 

"Mirandy!  Thunder!  You  believed  Mirandy! 
Well!  Now,  looky  here,  Mr.  Hartsook,  ef  you 
was  to  say  that  my  sister  lied,  I'd  lick  you  till 
yer  hide  wouldn't  hold  shucks.  But  /  say,  a-twix 
you  and  me  and  the  gate-post,  don't  you  never 
believe  nothing  that  Mirandy  Means  says.  Her 
and  marm  has  set  theirselves  like  fools  to  git 
you.  Hanner!  Well,  she's  a  mighty  nice  gal,  but 
you're  welcome  to  her.  I  never  tuck  no  shine  that 
air  way.  But  I  was  out  of  school  last  Thursday 
and  Friday  a-shucking  corn  to  take  to  mill  a-Satur- 
day.  And  when  I  come  past  the  Squire's  and  seed 
you  talking  to  a  gal  as  is  a  gal,  you  know" — here 
Bud  hesitated  and  looked  foolish — "  I  felt  hoppin' 
mad." 

Bud  put  on  his  coat. 


I$6  -HE   HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

Ralph  put  on  his  coat. 

Then  they  shook  hands  and  Bud  went  out.  Ralph 
sat  looking  into  the  fire.  There  was  no  conscien 
tious  difficulty  now  in  the  way  of  his  claiming  Han 
nah.  The  dry  forestick  lying  on  the  rude  stone 
andirons  burst  into  a  blaze.  The  smoldering  hope 
in  the  heart  of  Ralph  Hartsook  did  the  same.  He 
could  have  Hannah  if  he  could  win  her.  But  there 
came  slowly  back  the  recollection  of  his  lost  stand 
ing  in  Flat  Creek.  There  was  circumstantial  evi 
dence  against  him.  It  was  evident  that  Hannah  be 
lieved  something  of  this.  What  other  stories  Small 
might  have  put  in  circulation  he  did  not  know. 
Would  Small  try  to  win  Hannah's  love  to  throw  it 
away  again,  as  he  had  done  with  others  ?  At  least 
he  would  not  spare  any  pains  to  turn  the  heart  of 
the  bound  girl  against  Ralph. 

The  bright  flame  on  the  forestick,  which  Ralph 
had  been  watching,  flickered  and  burned  low. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

THE  CHURCH   OF  THE  BEST  LICKS. 

JUST  as  the  flame  on  the  forestick,  which  Ralph 
had  watched  so  intensely,  flickered  and  burned  low, 
and  just  as  Ralph  with  a  heavy  but  not  quite  hope 
less  heart  rose  to  leave,  the  latch  lifted  and  Bud  re- 
entered. 

"  I  wanted  to  say  something,"  he  stammered,  "  but 
you  know  it's  hard  to  say  it.  I  ha'n't  no  book-larn- 
in  to  speak  of,  and  some  things  is  hard  to  say  when 
a  man  ha'n't  got  book-words  to  say  'em  with.  And 
they's  some  things  a  man  can't  hardly  ever  say  any 
how  to  anybody." 

Here  Bud  stopped.  But  Ralph  spoke  in  such  a 
matter-of-course  way  in  reply  that  he  felt  encour 
aged  to  go  on. 

"  You  gin  up  Hanner  kase  you  thought  she  be 
longed  to  me.  That's  more'n  I'd  a  done  by  a  long 
shot.  Now,  arter  I  left  here  jest  now,  I  says  to  my 
self,  a  man  what  can  gin  up  his  gal  on  account  of 
sech  a  feeling  fer  the  rights  of  a  Flat  Cricker  like 

me,  why,  dog-on  it,  says  I,  sech  a  man  is  the  man 

157 


158  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

as  can  help  me  do  better.  1  don't  know  whether 
you're  a  Hardshell  or  a  Saftshell,  or  a  Methodist, 
or  a  Campbellite,  or  a  New  Light,  or  a  United 
Brother,  or  a  Millerite,  or  what-not.  But  I  says, 
the  man  what  can  do  the  clean  thing  by  a  ugly  fel 
ler  like  me,  and  stick  to  it,  when  I  was  jest  ready 
to  eat  him  up,  is  a  kind  of  a  man  to  tie  to." 

Here  Bud  stopped  in  fright  at  his  own  volubility, 
for  he  had  run  his  words  off  like  a  piece  learned  by 
heart,  as  though  afraid  that  if  he  stopped  he  would 
not  have  courage  to  go  on. 

Ralph  said  that  he  did  not  belong  to  any  church, 
and  he  was  afraid  he  couldn't  do  Bud  much  good. 
But  his  tone  was  full  of  sympathy,  and,  what  is  bet 
ter  than  sympathy,  a  yearning  for  sympathy. 

"  You  see,"  said  Bud,  "  I  wanted  to  git  out  of  this 
low-lived,  Flat  Crick  way  of  livin*.  We're  a  hard 
set  down  here,  Mr.  Hartsook.  And  I'm  gittin'  to 
be  one  of  the  hardest  of  'em.  But  I  never  could 
git  no  good  out  of  Bosaw  with  his  whisky  and  mean 
ness.  And  I  went  to  the  Mount  Tabor  church  con 
cert.  I  heard  a  man  discussin'  baptism,  and  regen 
eration,  and  so  on.  That  didn't  seem  no  cure  for  me. 
I  went  to  a  revival  over  at  Clifty.  Well,  'twarn't 
no  use.  First  night  they  was  a  man  that  spoke 
about  Jesus  Christ  in  sech  a  way  that  I  wanted  to 
toiler  him  everywhere.  But  I  didn't  feel  fit  Next 


THE  CHURCH   OF  THE  BEST  LICKS.  159 

night  I  come  back  with  my  mind  made  up  that  I'd 
try  Jesus  Christ,  and  see  ef  he'd  have  me.  But 
laws!  they  was  a  big  man  that  night  that  preached 
hell.  Not  that  I  don't  believe  they's  a  hell.  They's 
plenty  not  a  thousand  miles  away  as  deserves  it,  and 
I  don't  know  as  I'm  too  good  for  it  myself.  But 
he  pitched  it  at  us,  and  stuck  it  in  our  faces  in  sech 
a  way  that  I  got  mad.  And  I  says,  Well,  ef  God 
sends  me  to  hell  he  can't  make  me  holler  'nough 
nohow.  You  see  my  dander  was  up.  And  when 
my  dander's  up,  I  wouldn't  gin  up  fer  the  devil  his- 
self.  The  preacher  was  so  insultin'  with  his  way 
of  doin'  it.  He  seemed  to  be  kind  of  glad  that  we 
was  to  be  damned,  and  he  preached  somethin*  like 
some  folks  swears.  It  didn't  sound  a  bit  like  the 
Christ  the  little  man  preached  about  the  night  afore. 
So  what  does  me  and  a  lot  of  fellers  do  but  slip  out 
and  cut  off  the  big  preacher's  stirrups,  and  hang 
'em  on  to  the  rider  of  the  fence,  and  then  set  his 
hoss  loose !  And  from  that  day,  sometimes  I  did, 
and  sometimes  I  didn't,  want  to  be  better.  And 
to-day  it  seemed  to  me  that  you  must  know  some- 
thin'  as  would  help  me." 

Nothing  is  worse  than  a  religious  experience  kept 
ready  to  be  exposed  to  the  gaze  of  everybody, 
whether  the  time  is  appropriate  or  not.  But  never 
was  a  religious  experience  more  appropriate  than 


l6o  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

the  account  which  Ralph  gave  to  Bud  of  his  Strug 
gle  in  the  Dark.  The  confession  of  his  weakness 
and  wicked  selfishness  was  a  great  comfort  to  Bud. 

"  Do  you  think  that  Jesus  Christ  would — would 
— well,  do  you  think  he'd  help  a  poor,  unlarnt  Flat 
Cricker  like  me  ?  " 

"  I  think  he  was  a  sort  of  a  Flat  Creeker  him 
self,"  said  Ralph,  slowly  and  very  earnestly. 

"You  don't  say?"  said  Bud,  almost  getting  off 
his  seat. 

"  Why,  you  see  the  town  he  lived  in  was  a  rough 
place.  It  was  called  Nazareth,  which  meant '  Bush- 
town.'  " 

"You  don't  say?" 

"And  he  was  called  a  Nazarene,  which  was  about 
the  same  as  '  backwoodsman.' " 

And  Ralph  read  the  different  passages  which  he 
had  studied  at  Sunday-school,  illustrating  the  con 
descension  of  Jesus,  the  stones  of  the  publicans, 
the  harlots,  the  poor,  who  came  to  him.  And  he 
read  about  Nathanael,  who  lived  only  six  miles 
away,  saying,  'Can  any  good  thing  come  out  of 
Nazareth  ? '" 

"  Jus'  what  Clifty  folks  says  about  Flat  Crick," 
broke  in  Bud. 

"  Do  you  think  I  could  begin  without  being  bap 
tized  ?  "  he  added  presently. 


THE  CHURCH  OF  THE  BEST  LICKS.  l6l 

"  Why  not  ?  Let's  begin  now  to  do  the  best  we 
can,  by  his  help." 

"You  mean,  then,  that  I'm  to  begin  now  to  put 
in  my  best  licks  for  Jesus  Christ,  and  that  he'll 
help  me  ?" 

This  shocked  Ralph's  veneration  a  little.  But  it 
was  the  sincere  utterance  of  an  earnest  soul.  It 
may  not  have  been  an  orthodox  start,  but  it  was 
the  one  start  for  Bud.  And  there  be  those  who 
have  repeated  with  the  finest  aesthetic  appreciation 
the  old  English  liturgies  who  have  never  known 
religious  aspiration  so  sincere  as  that  of  this  ignorant 
young  Hercules,  whose  best  confession  was  that  he 
meant  hereafter  "  to  put  in  his  best  licks  for  Jesus 
Christ."  And  there  be  those  who  can  define  re 
pentance  and  faith  to  the  turning  of  a  hair  who 
never  made  so  genuine  a  start  for  the  kingdom  of 
Heaven  as  Bud  Means  did. 

Ralph  said  yes,  that  he  thought  that  was  just  it. 
At  least,  he  guessed  if  there  was  something  more, 
the  man  that  was  putting  in  his  best  licks  would  be 
sure  to  find  it  out. 

"  Do  you  think  he'd  help  a  feller  ?  Seems  to  me 
it  would  be  number  one  to  have  God  help  you. 
Not  to  help  you  fight  other  folks,  but  to  help  you 
when  it  comes  to  fighting  the  devil  inside.  But 

you  see  I  don't  belong  to  no  church." 
ii 


l62  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

"Well,  let's  you  and  me  have  one  right  off.  Two 
people  that  help  one  another  to  serve  God  make  a 
church." 

I  am  afraid  this  ecclesiastical  theory  will  not  be 
considered  orthodox.  It  was  Ralph's,  and  I  write  it 
down  at  the  risk  of  bringing  him  into  condemnation. 

But  other  people  before  the  days  of  Bud  and 
Ralph  have  discussed  church  organization  when 
they  should  have  been  doing  Christian  work.  For 
both  of  them  had  forgotten  the  danger  that  hung 
over  the  old  basket-maker,  until  Shocky  burst  into 
the  school-house,  weeping.  Indeed,  the  poor,  ner 
vous  little  frame  was  ready  to  go  into  convulsions. 

"  Miss  Hawkins " 

Bud  started  at  mention  of  the  name. 

"  Miss  Hawkins  has  just  been  over  to  say  that  a 
crowd  is  going  to  tar  and  feather  Mr.  Pearson  to 
night.  And "  here  Shocky  wept  again.  "And 

he  won't  run,  but  he's  took  up  the  old  flintlock,  and 
says  he'll  die  in  his  tracks." 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

THE  CHURCH   MILITANT. 

BUD  was  doubly  enlisted  on  the  side  of  John 
Pearson,  the  basket-maker.  In  the  first  place,  he 
knew  that  this  persecution  of  the  unpopular  old 
man  was  only  a  blind  to  save  somebody  else ;  that 
they  were  thieves  who  cried,  "  Stop  thief!"  And 
he  felt  consequently  that  this  was  a  chance  to  put 
his  newly-formed  resolutions  into  practice.  The 
Old  Testament  religious  life,  which  consists  in  fight 
ing  the  Lord's  enemies,  suited  Bud's  temper  and 
education.  It  might  lead  to  something  better.  It 
was  the  best  possible  to  him,  now.  But  I  am  afraid 
I  shall  have  to  acknowledge  that  there  was  a 
second  motive  that  moved  Bud  to  this  champion 
ship.  The  good  heart  of  Martha  Hawkins  having 
espoused  the  cause  of  the  basket-maker,  the  heart 
of  Bud  Means  could  not  help  feeling  warmly  on  the 
same  side.  Blessed  is  that  man  in  whose  life  the 
driving  of  duty  and  the  drawing  of  love  impel  the 
same  way!  But  why  speak  of  the  driving  of  duty  ? 
For  already  Bud  was  learning  the  better  lesson  of 
serving  God  for  the  love  of  God. 


164  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

The  old  basket-maker  was  the  most  unpopular 
man  in  Flat  Creek  district.  He  had  two  great  vices. 
He  would  go  to  Clifty  and  have  a  "  spree  "  once  in 
three  months.  And  he  would  tell  the  truth  in  a  most 
unscrupulous  manner.  A  man  given  to  plain  speak 
ing  was  quite  as  objectionable  in  Flat  Creek  as  he 
would  have  been  in  France  under  the  Empire,  the 
Commune,  or  the  Republic,  and  almost  as  objec 
tionable  as  he  would  be  in  any  refined  community 
in  America.  People  who  live  in  glass  houses  have  a 
horror  of  people  who  throw  stones.  And  the  old 
basket-maker,  having  no  friends,  was  a  good  scape 
goat.  In  driving  him  off,  Pete  Jones  would  get  rid 
of  a  dangerous  neighbor  and  divert  attention  from 
himself.  The  immediate  crime  of  the  basket-maker 
was  that  he  had  happened  to  see  too  much. 

"  Mr.  Hartsook,"  said  Bud,  when  they  got  out  into 
the  road,  "you'd  better  go  straight  home  to  the 
Squire's.  Bekase  ef  this  lightnin'  strikes  a  second 
time  it'll  strike  awful  closte  to  you.  You  hadn't 
better  be  seen  with  us.  Which  way  did  you  come, 
Shocky?" 

"  Why,  I  tried  to  come  down  the  holler,  but  I 
met  Jones  right  by  the  big  road,  and  he  sweared  at 
me  and  said  he'd  kill  me  ef  I  didn't  go  back  and 
stay.  And  so  I  went  back  to  the  house  and  then 
slipped  out  through  the  graveyard.  You  see  I  was 


THE  CHURCH   MILITANT.  165 

bound  to  come  ef  I  got  skinned.  For  Mr.  Pearson's 
stuck  to  me  and  I  mean  to  stick  to  him,  you  see." 

Bud  led  Shocky  through  the  graveyard.  But 
when  they  reached  the  forest  path  from  the  grave 
yard  he  thought  that  perhaps  it  was  not  best  to 
"  show  his  hand,"  as  he  expressed  it,  too  soon. 

"  Now,  Shocky,"  he  said,  "  do  you  run  ahead  and 
tell  the  ole  man  that  I  want  to  see  him  right  off 
down  by  the  Spring-in-rock.  I'll  keep  closte  behind 
you,  and  ef  anybody  offers  to  trouble  you,  do  you 
let  off  a  yell  and  I'll  be  thar  in  no  time." 

When  Ralph  left  the  school-house  he  felt  mean. 
There  were  Bud  and  Shocky  gone  on  an  errand  of 
mercy,  and  he,  the  truant  member  of  the  Church  of 
the  Best  Licks,  was  not  with  them.  The  more  he 
thought  of  it  the  more  he  seemed  to  be  a  coward, 
and  the  more  he  despised  himself;  so,  yielding  as 
usual  to  the  first  brave  impulse,  he  leaped  nimbly 
over  the  fence  and  started  briskly  through  the  for 
est  in  a  direction  intersecting  the  path  on  which 
were  Bud  and  Shocky.  He  came  in  sight  just  in 
time  to  see  the  first  conflict  of  the  Church  in  the 
Wilderness  with  her  foes. 

For  Shocky 's  little  feet  went  more  swiftly  on 
their  eager  errand  than  Bud  had  anticipated.  He 
got  farther  out  of  Bud's  reach  than  the  latter  in 
tended  he  should,  and  he  did  not  discover  Pete 


l66  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

Jones  until  Pete,  with  his  hog-drover's  whip,  was 
right  upon  him. 

Shocky  tried  to  halloo  for  Bud,  but  he  was  like 
one  in  a  nightmare.  The  yell  died  into  a  whisper 
which  could  not  have  been  heard  ten  feet. 

I  shall  not  repeat  Mr.  Jones's  words.  They  were 
frightfully  profane.  But  he  did  not  stop  at  words. 
He  swept  his  whip  round  and  gave  little  Shocky 
one  terrible  cut.  Then  the  voice  was  released,  and 
the  piercing  cry  of  pain  brought  Bud  down  the  path 
flying. 

"You  good-for-nothing  scoundrel,"  growled  Bud, 
"  you're  a  coward  and  a  thief  to  be  a-beatin'  a  little 
creetur  like  him !  "  and  with  that  Bud  walked  up 
on  Jones,  who  prudently  changed  position  in  such 
a  way  as  to  get  the  upper  side  of  the  hill. 

"  Well,  I'll  gin  you  the  upper  side,  but  come  on," 
cried  Bud,  "  ef  you  a'n't  afeared  to  fight  somebody 
besides  a  poor  little  sickly  baby  or  a  crippled  sol 
dier.  Come  on !  " 

Pete  was  no  insignificant  antagonist.  He  had 
been  a  great  fighter,  and  his  well-seasoned  arms 
were  like  iron.  He  had  not  the  splendid  set  of  Bud, 
but  he  had  more  skill  and  experience  in  the  rude 
tournament  of  fists  to  which  the  backwoods  is  so 
much  given.  Now,  being  out  of  sight  of  witnesses 
and  sure  that  he  could  lie  about  the  fight  afterward, 


BUD  MEANS  COMES  TO  THE  RESCUE  OF  SHOCKY. 


THE   CHURCH   MILITANT.  l6/ 

he  did  not  scruple  to  take  advantages  which  would 
have  disgraced  him  forever  if  he  had  taken  them  in 
a  public  fight  on  election  day  or  at  a  muster.  He 
took  the  uphill  side,  and  he  clubbed  his  whip-stalk, 
striking  Bud  with  all  his  force  with  the  heavy  end, 
which,  coward-like,  he  had  loaded  with  lead.  Bud 
threw  up  his  strong  left  arm  and  parried  the  blow, 
which,  however,  was  so  fierce  that  it  fractured  one 
of  the  bones  of  the  arm.  Throwing  away  his 
whip  Pete  rushed  upon  Bud  furiously,  intending  to 
overpower  him,  but  Bud  slipped  quickly  to  one  side 
and  let  Jones  pass  down  the  hill,  and  as  Jones  came 
up  again  Means  dealt  him  one  crushing  blow  that 
sent  him  full  length  upon  the  ground.  Nothing  but 
the  leaves  saved  him  from  a  most  terrible  fall.  Jones 
sprang  to  his  feet  more  angry  than  ever  at  being 
whipped  by  one  whom  he  regarded  as  a  boy,  and 
drew  a  long  dirk-knife.  But  he  was  blind  with  rage, 
and  Bud  dodged  the  knife,  and  this  time  gave  Pete 
a  blow  on  the  nose  which  marred  the  homeliness  of 
that  feature  and  doubled  the  fellow  up  against  a 
tree  ten  feet  away. 

Ralph  came  in  sight  in  time  to  see  the  beginning 
of  the  fight,  and  he  arrived  on  the  ground  just  as 
Pete  Jones  went  down  under  the  well-dealt  blow 
from  the  only  remaining  fist  of  Bud  Means. 

While  Ralph  examined  Bud's  disabled  left  arm 


l68  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

Pete  picked  himself  up  slowly,  and,  muttering  that 
he  felt  "consid'able  shuck  up  like,"  crawled  away 
like  a  whipped  puppy.  To  every  one  whom  he  met, 
Pete,  whose  intellect  seemed  to  have  weakened  in 
sympathy  with  his  frame,  remarked  feebly  that  he 
was  consid'able  shuck  up  like,  and  vouchsafed  no 
other  explanation.  Even  to  his  wife  he  only  said 
that  he  felt  purty  consid'able  shuck  up  like,  and 
that  the  boys  would  have  to  get  on  to-night  without 
him.  There  are  some  scoundrels  whose  very  malig 
nity  is  shaken  out  of  them  for  the  time  being  by  a 
thorough  drubbing. 

"  I'm  afraid  you're  going  to  have  trouble  with 
your  arm,  Bud,"  said  Ralph  tenderly. 

"  Never  mind ;  I  put  in  my  best  licks  fer  Him, 
that  air  time,  Mr.  Hartsook,"  Ralph  shivered  a 
little  at  thought  of  this,  but  if  it  was  right  to  knock 
Jones  down  at  all,  why  might  not  Bud  do  it  "  heart 
ily  as  unto  the  Lord  ?  " 

Gideon  did  not  feel  any  more  honest  pleasure  in 
chastising  the  Midianites  than  did  Bud  in  sending 
Fete  Jones  away  purty  consid'able  shuck  up  like. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

A     COUNCIL     OF     WAR. 

SHOCKY,  whose  feet  had  flown  as  soon  as  he  saw 
the  final  fall  of  Pete  Jones,  told  the  whole  story  to 
the  wondering  and  admiring  ears  of  Miss  Hawkins, 
who  unhappily  could  not  remember  anything  at  the 
East  just  like  it ;  to  the  frightened  ears  of  the  rheu 
matic  old  lady  who  felt  sure  her  ole  man's  talk  and 
stubbornness  would  be  the  ruin  of  him,  and  to  the 
indignant  ears  of  the  old  soldier  who  was  hobbling 
up  and  down,  sentinel-wise,  in  front  of  his  cabin, 
standing  guard  over  himself. 

"  No,  I  won't  leave,"  he  said  to  Ralph  and  Bud. 
"  You  see  I  jest  won't.  What  would  Gin'ral  Win- 
field  Scott  say  ef  he  knew  that  one  of  them  as  fit 
at  Lundy's  Lane  backed  out,  retreated,  run  fer  fear 
of  a  passel  of  thieves?  No,  sir;  me  and  the  ole1 
flintlock  will  live  and  die  together.  I'll  put  a  thun- 
derin*  charge  of  buckshot  into  the  first  one  of  them 
scoundrels  as  comes  up  the  holler.  It'll  be  another 
Lundy's  Lane.  And  you,  Mr.  Hartsook,  may  send 

Scott  word  that  ole  Pearson,  as  fit  at  Lundy's  Lane 

169 


I/O  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

under  him,  died  a-fightin'  thieves  on  Rocky  Branch, 
in  Hoopole  Kyounty,  State  of  Injeanny." 

And  the  old  man  hobbled  faster  and  faster,  taxing 
his  wooden  leg  to  the  very  utmost,  as  if  his  victory 
depended  on  the  vehemence  with  which  he  walked 
his  beat. 

Mrs.  Pearson  sat  wringing  her  hands  and  looking 
appealingly  at  MaYtha  Hawkins,  who  stood  in  the 
door,  in  despair,  looking  appealingly  at  Bud.  Bud 
was  stupefied  by  the  old  man's  stubbornness  and  his 
own  pain,  and  in  his  turn  appealed  mutely  to  the 
master,  in  whose  resources  he  had  boundless  confi 
dence.  Ralph,  seeing  that  all  depended  on  him, 
was  taxing  his  wits  to  think  of  some  way  to  get 
round  Pearson's  stubbornness.  Shocky  hung  to 
the  old  man's  coat  and  pulled  away  at  him  with 
many  entreating  words,  but  the  venerable,  bare- 
headed  sentinel  strode  up  and  down  furiously,  with 
his  flintlock  on  his  shoulder  and  his  basket-knife  in 
his  belt. 

Just  at  this  point  somebody  could  be  seen   indis 
tinctly  through  the  bushes  coming  up  the  hollow. 
"  Halt !  "  cried  the  old  hero.  "  Who  goes  there  ?  " 
"  It's  me,  Mr.  Pearson.     Don't  shoot  me,  please." 
It  was  the  voice  of  Hannah  Thomson.     Hearing 
that  the  whole  neighborhood  was  rising  against  the 
benefactor  of  Shocky  and   of  her  family,  she  had 


A  COUNCIL  OF  WAR.  I/I 

slipped  away  from  the  eyes  of  her  mistress,  and  run 
with  breathless  haste  to  give  warning  in  the  cabin 
on  Rocky  Branch.  Seeing  Ralph,  she  blushed,  and 
went  into  the  cabin. 

"  Well,"  said  Ralph,  "  the  enemy  is  not  coming 
yet.  Let  us  hold  a  council  of  war." 

This  thought  came  to  Ralph  like  an  inspiration. 
It  pleased  the  old  man's  whim,  and  he  sat  down  on 
the  door-step. 

"  Now,  I  suppose,"  said  Ralph,  "  that  General 
Winfield  Scott  always  looked  into  things  a  little  be 
fore  he  went  into  a  fight.  Didn't  he  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure,"  assented  the  old  man. 

"  Well,"  said  Ralph.  "  What  is  the  condition  of 
the  enemy  ?  I  suppose  the  whole  neighborhood's 
against  us." 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  the  old  man.  The  rest  were 
silent,  but  all  felt  the  statement  to  be  about  true. 

"  Next,"  said  Ralph,  "  I  suppose  General  Winfield 
Scott  would  always  inquire  into  the  condition  of  his 
own  troops.  Now  let  us  see.  Captain  Pearson  has 
Bud,  who  is  the  right  wing,  badly  crippled  by  hav 
ing  his  arm  broken  in  the  first  battle."  (Miss  Haw 
kins  looked  pale.) 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  the  old  man. 

"And  I  am  the  left  wing,  pretty  good  at  giving 
advice,  but  very  slender  in  a  fight-" 


1 72          THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

"To  be  sure,"  said  the  old  man. 

"And  Shocky  and  Miss  Martha  and  Hannah  good 
aids,  but  nothing  in  a  battle." 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  the  basket-maker,  a  little  doubt 
fully. 

"  Now  let's  look  at  the  arms  and  accouterments, 
I  think  you  call  them.  Well,  this  old  musket  has 
been  loaded " 

"  This  ten  year,"  said  the  old  lady. 

"And  the  lock  is  so  rusty  that  you  could  not 
cock  it  when  you  wanted  to  take  aim  at  Hannah." 

The  old  man  looked  foolish,  and  muttered  "  To 
be  sure." 

"And  there  isn't  another  round  of  ammunition  in 
the  house." 

The  old  man  was  silent. 

"  Now  let  us  look  at  the  incumbrances.  Here's 
the  old  lady  and  Shocky.  If  you  fight,  the  enemy 
will  be  pleased.  It  will  give  them  a  chance  to  kill 
you.  And  then  the  old  lady  will  die  and  they  will 
do  with  Shocky  as  they  please." 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  the  old  man  reflectively. 

"  Now,"  said  Ralph,  "  General  Winfield  Scott,  un 
der  such  circumstances,  would  retreat  in  good  order. 
Then,  when  he  could  muster  his  forces  rightly,  he 
would  drive  the  enemy  from  his  ground." 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  the  old  man.  "  What  ort  I  to 
do?" 


A  COUNCIL  OF  WAR.  173 

"  Have  you  any  friends  ?  " 

"  Well,  yes ;  ther's  my  brother  over  in  Jackson 
Kyounty.  I  mout  go  there." 

"  Well,"  said  Bud,  "  do  you  just  go  down  to  Spring- 
in-rock  and  stay  there.  Them  folks  won't  be  here 
tell  midnight.  I'll  come  fer  you  at  nine  with  my 
roan  colt,  and  I'll  set  you  down  over  on  the  big  road 
on  Buckeye  Run.  Then  you  can  git  on  the  mail- 
wagon  that  passes  there  about  five  o'clock  in  the 
mornin',  and  go  over  to  Jackson  County  and  keep 
shady  till  we  want  you  to  face  the  enemy  and  to 
swear  agin  some  folks.  And  then  we'll  send  fer 
you." 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  the  old  man  in  a  broken  voice. 
"  I  reckon  General  Winfield  Scott  wouldn't  disap 
prove  of  such  a  maneuver  as  that  thar." 

Miss  Martha  beamed  on  Bud  to  his  evident  de 
light,  for  he  carried  his  painful  arm  part  of  the  way 
home  with  her.  Ralph  noticed  that  Hannah  looked 
at  him  with  a  look  full  of  contending  emotions. 
He  read  admiration,  gratitude,  and  doubt  in  the 
expression  of  her  face,  as  she  turned  toward  home. 

"  Well,  good-by,  ole  woman,"  said  Pearson,  as  he 
took  up  his  little  handkerchief  full  of  things  and 
started  for  his  hiding-place;  "good-by.  I  didn't 
never  think  I'd  desart  you,  and  ef  the  old  flintlock 
hadn't  a  been  rusty,,  I'd  a  staid  and  died  right  here 


1/4  THE  HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

by  the  ole  cabin.  But  I  reckon  'ta'n't  best  to  be 
brash."1  And  Shocky  looked  after  him,  as  he  hob 
bled  away  over  the  stones,  more  than  ever  convinced 
that  God  had  forgotten  all  about  things  on  Flat 
Creek.  He  gravely  expressed  his  opinion  to  the 
master  the  next  day. 

1  The  elaborate  etymological  treatment  of  this  word  in  its  various 
forms  in  our  best  dictionary  is  a  fine  illustration  of  the  fact  that  some 
thing  more  than  scholarship  is  needed  for  penetrating  the  mysteries 
of  current  folk-speech.  Brash — often  bresh — in  the  sense  of  refuse 
boughs  of  trees,  is  only  another  form  of  brush;  the  two  are  used  as 
one  word  by  the  people.  Brash  in  the  sense  of  brittle  has  no 
conscious  connection  with  the  noun  in  popular  usage,  but  it  is  ac 
counted  by  the  people  the  same  word  as  brash  in  the  sense  of  rash  or 
impetuous.  The  suggestion  in  the  Century  Dictionary  that  the  words 
spelled  brash  are  of  modern  formation  violates  the  soundest  canon  of 
antiquarian  research ,  which  is  that  a  word  phrase  or  custom  widely 
diffused  among  plain  or  rustic  people  is  of  necessity  of  ancient  origin. 
Now  brash,  the  adjective,  exists  in  both  senses  in  two  or  three  of  the 
most  widely  separated  dialects  of  the  United  States,  and  hence  must 
have  come  from  England.  Indeed,  it  appears  in  Wright's  Dictionary 
of  Provincial  English  in  precisely  the  sense  it  has  la  the  text. 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

ODDS   AND   ENDS. 

THE  Spring-in-rock,  or,  as  it  was  sometimes,  by 
a  curious  perversion,  called,  the  "  rock-in-spring," 
was  a  spring  running  out  of  a  cave-like  fissure  in  a 
high  limestone  cliff.  Here  the  old  man  sheltered 
himself  on  that  dreary  Christmas  evening,  until  Bud 
brought  his  roan  colt  to  the  top  of  the  cliff  above, 
and  he  and  Ralph  helped  the  old  man  up  the  cliff 
and  into  the  saddle.  Ralph  went  back  to  bed,  but 
Bud,  who  was  only  too  eager  to  put  in  his  best  licks, 
walked  by  the  side  of  old  John  Pearson  the  six 
miles  over  to  Buckeye  Run,  and  at  last,  after  eleven 
o'clock,  he  deposited  him  in  a  hollow  sycamore  by 
the  road,  there  to  wait  the  coming  of  the  mail-wagon 
that  would  carry  him  into  Jackson  County. 

"Good-by,"  said  the  basket-maker,  as  Bud 
mounted  the  colt  to  return.  "  Ef  I'm  wanted  jest 
send  me  word,  and  I'll  make  a  forrard  movement 
any  time.  I  don't  like  this  'ere  thing  of  running  off 
in  the  night-time.  But  I  reckon  General  Winfield 
Scott  would  a  ordered  a  retreat  ef  he'd  a  been  m 


THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

my  shoes.  I'm  lots  obleeged  to  you.  Akordin'  to 
my  tell,  we're  all  of  us  selfish  in  everything  ;  but  I'll 
be  dog-on'd  ef  I  don't  believe  you  and  one  or  two 
more  is  exceptions." 

Whether  it  was  that  the  fact  that  Pete  Jones  had 
got  consid'able  shuck  up  demoralized  his  followers, 
or  whether  it  was  that  the  old  man's  flight  was  sus 
pected,  the  mob  did  not  turn  out  in  very  great  force, 
and  the  tarring  was  postponed  indefinitely,  for  by 
the  time  they  came  together  it  became  known  some 
how  that  the  man  with  a  wooden  leg  had  outrun 
them  all.  But  the  escape  of  one  devoted  victim 
did  not  mollify  the  feelings  of  the  people  toward 
the  next  one. 

By  the  time  Bud  returned  his  arm  was  very  pain 
ful,  and  the  next  day  he  went  under  Dr.  Small's 
treatment  to  reduce  the  fracture.  Whatever  sus 
picions  Bud  might  have  of  Pete  Jones,  he  was  not 
afflicted  with  Ralph's  dread  of  the  silent  young 
doctor.  And  if  there  was  anything  Small  admired 
it  was  physical  strength  and  courage.  Small  wanted 
Bud  on  his  side,  and  least  of  all  did  he  want  him  to 
be  Ralph's  champion.  So  that  the  silent,  cool,  and 
skillful  doctor  went  to  work  to  make  an  impression 
on  Bud  Means. 

Other  influences  were  at  work  upon  him  also. 
Mrs.  Means  volleyed  and  thundered  in  her  usual 


ODDS   AND   ENDS.  177 

style  about  his  "  takin'  up  with  a  one-legged  thief, 
and  runnin'  arter  that  master  that  was  a  mighty 
suspicious  kind  of  a  customer,  akordin'  to  her  tell. 
She'd  allers  said  so.  Ef  she'd  a  been  consulted  he 
wouldn't  a  been  hired.  He  warn't  fit  company  fer 
nobody." 

And  old  Jack  Means  'lowed  Bud  must  want  to 
have  their  barns  burnt  like  some  other  folkses  had 
been.  Fer  his  part,  he  had  sense  enough  to  know 
they  was  some  people  as  it  wouldn't  do  to  set  a 
body's  self  agin.  And  as  fer  him,  he  didn't  butt  his 
brains  out  agin  a  buckeye-tree.  Not  when  he  was 
sober.  And  so  they  managed,  during  Bud's  con 
finement  to  the  house,  to  keep  him  well  supplied 
with  all  the  ordinary  discomforts  of  life. 

But  one  visit  from  Martha  Hawkins,  ten  words 
of  kindly  inquiry  from  her,  and  the  remark  that  his 
broken  arm  reminded  her  of  something  she  had 
seen  at  the  East  and  something  somebody  said  the 
time  she  was  to  Bosting,  were  enough  to  repay  the 
champion  a  thousand  fold  for  all  that  he  suffered. 
Indeed,  that  visit,  and  the  recollection  of  Ralph's 
saying  that  Jesus  Christ  was  a  sort  of  a  Flat  Creeker 
himself,  were  manna  in  the  wilderness  to  Bud. 

Poor  Shocky  was  sick.  The  excitement  had  been 
too  much  for  him,  and  though  his  fever  was  very 
slight  it  was  enough  to  produce  just  a  little  delir- 


12 


178  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

ium.  Either  Ralph  or  Miss  Martha  was  generally 
at  the  cabin. 

"  They're  coming,"  said  Shocky  to  Ralph,"  they're 
coming.  Pete  Jones  is  a-going  to  bind  me  out  for 
a  hundred  years.  I  wish  Hanner  would  hold  me 
so's  he  couldn't.  God's  forgot  all  about  us  here  in 
Flat  Creek,  and  there's  nobody  to  help  it." 

And  he  shivered  at  every  sudden  sound.  He 
was  never  free  from  this  delirious  fright  except 
when  the  master  held  him  tight  in  his  arms.  He 
staggered  around  the  floor,  the  very  shadow  of 
Shocky,  and  was  so  terrified  by  the  approach  of 
darkness  that  Ralph  staid  in  the  cabin  on  Wednes 
day  night  and  Miss  Hawkins  staid  on  Thursday 
night.  On  Friday,  Bud  sent  a  note  to  Ralph,  asking 
him  to  come  and  see  him. 

"  You  see,  Mr.  Hartsook,  I  ha'n't  forgot  what  we 
said  about  puttin'  in  our  best  licks  for  Jesus  Christ. 
I've  been  a-trying  to  read  some  about  him  while  I 
set  here.  And  I  read  where  he  said  something 
about  doing  fer  the  least  of  his  brethren  being  all 
the  same  like  as  if  it  was  done  fer  Jesus  Christ  his- 
self.  Now  there's  Shocky.  I  reckon,  p'r'aps,  ef 
anybody  is  a  little  brother  of  Jesus  Christ,  it  is  that 
Shocky.  Pete  Jones  and  his  brother  Bill  is  detar- 
mined  to  have  him  back  there  to-morry.  Bekase, 
you  see,  Pete's  one  of  the  County  Commissioners, 


ODDS   AND   ENDS. 

and  to-morry's  the  day  that  they  bind  out.  He 
wants  to  bind  out  that  boy  jes'  to  spite  ole  Pearson 
and  you  and  me.  You  see,  the  ole  woman's  been 
helped  by  the  neighbors,  and  he'll  claim  Shocky  to 
be  a  pauper,  and  they  a'n't  no  human  soul  here  as 
dares  to  do  a  thing  contrary  to  Pete.  Couldn't  you 
git  him  over  to  Lewisburg  ?  I'll  lend  you  my  roan 
colt." 

Ralph  thought  a  minute.  He  dared  not  take 
Shocky  to  the  uncle's  where  he  found  his  only 
home.  But  there  was  Miss  Nancy  Sawyer,  the  old 
maid  who  was  everybody's  blessing.  He  could  ask 
her  to  keep  him.  And,  at  any  rate,  he  would  save 
Shocky  somehow. 

As  he  went  out  in  the  dusk,  he  met  Hannah  in 
the  lane. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

FACE  TO  FACE. 

IN  the  lane,  in  the  dark,  under  the  shadow  of  the 
barn,  Ralph  met  Hannah  carrying  her  bucket  of 
milk  (they  have  no  pails  in  Indiana).1  He  could  see 
only  the  white  foam  on  the  milk,  and  Hannah's 
white  face.  Perhaps  it  was  well  that  he  could  not 
see  how  white  Hannah's  face  was  at  that  moment 
when  a  sudden  trembling  made  her  set  down  the 
heavy  bucket.  At  first  neither  spoke.  The  recol 
lection  of  all  the  joy  of  that  walk  together  in  the 
night  came  upon  them  both.  And  a  great  sense  of 
loss  made  the  night  seem  supernaturally  dark  to 
Ralph.  Nor  was  it  any  lighter  in  the  hopeless  heart 
of  the  bound  girl.  The  presence  of  Ralph  did  not 
now,  as  before,  make  the  darkness  of  her  life  light. 

"  Hannah "  said  Ralph  presently,  and  stopped. 

1  The  total  absence  of  the  word  pail  not  only  from  the  dialect,  but 
even  from  cultivated  speech  in  the  Southern  and  Border  States  until 
very  recently,  is  a  fact  I  leave  to  be  explained  on  further  investiga 
tion.  The  word  is  an  old  one  and  a  good  one,  but  I  fancy  that  its 
use  in  England  could  not  have  been  generally  diffused  in  the  seven 
teenth  century.  So  a  Hoosier  or  a  Kentuckian  never  pared  an  apple, 
but  peeled  it.  Much  light  might  be  thrown  on  the  origin  and  history 
of  our  dialects  by  investigating  their  deficiencies. 

180 


PACE  TO   FACE.  l8l 

For  he  could  not  finish  the  sentence.  With  a  rush 
there  came  upon  him  a  consciousness  of  the  suspi 
cions  that  filled  Hannah's  mind.  And  with  it  there 
came  a  feeling  of  guilt.  He  saw  himself  from  her 
stand-point,  and  felt  a  remorse  almost  as  keen  as  it 
could  have  been  had  he  been  a  criminal.  And  this 
sudden  and  morbid  sense  of  his  guilt  as  it  appeared 
to  Hannah  paralyzed  him.  But  when  Hannah  lifted 
her  bucket  with  her  hand,  and  the  world  with  her 
heavy  heart,  and  essayed  to  pass  him,  Ralph  rallied 
and  said : 

"  You  don't  believe  all  these  lies  that  are  told 
about  me." 

"I  don't  believe  anything,  Mr.  Hartsook;  that 
is,  I  don't  want  to  believe  anything  against  you. 
And  I  wouldn't  mind  anything  they  say  if  it  wasn't 
for  two  things  " — here  she  stammered  and  looked 
down. 

"  If  it  wasn't  for  what  ?  "  said  Ralph  with  a  spice 
of  indignant  denial  in  his  voice. 

Hannah  hesitated,  but  Ralph  pressed  the  ques 
tion  with  eagerness. 

"  I  saw  you  cross  that  blue-grass  pasture  the 
night — the  night  that  you  walked  home  with  me." 
She  would  have  said  the  night  of  the  robbery,  but 
her  heart  smote  her,  and  she  adopted  the  more 
kindly  form  of  the  sentence. 


1 82  THE   HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

Ralph  would  have  explained,  but  how  ? 

"  I  did  cross  the  pasture,"  he  began,  "but " 

Just  here  it  occurred  to  Ralph  that  there  was  no 
reason  for  his  night  excursion  across  the  pasture. 
Hannah  again  took  up  her  bucket,  but  he  said: 

"  Tell  me  what  else  you  have  against  me." 

"  I  haven't  anything  against  you.  Only  T  am 
poor  and  friendless,  and  you  oughtn't  to  mak^  my 
life  any  heavier.  They  say  that  you  have  paid  at 
tention  to  a  great  many  girls.  I  don't  know  why 
you  should  want  to  trifle  with  me." 

Ralph  answered  her  this  time.  He  spoke  low. 
He  spoke  as  though  he  were  speaking  to  God.  "  If 
any  man  says  that  I  ever  trifled  with  any  woman, 
he  lies.  I  have  never  loved  but  one,  and  you  know 
who  that  is.  And  God  knows." 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  say,  Mr.  Hartsook." 
Hannah's  voice  was  broken.  These  solemn  words 
of  love  were  like  a  river  in  the  desert,  and  she  was 
like  a  wanderer  dying  of  thirst.  "  I  don't  know, 
Mr.  Hartsook.  If  I  was  alone,  it  wouldn't  matter. 
But  I've  got  my  blind  mother  and  my  poor  Shocky 
to  look  after.  And  I  don't  want  to  make  mistakes. 
And  the  world  is  so  full  of  lies  I  don't  know  what 
to  believe.  Somehow  I  can't  help  believing  what 
you  say.  You  seem  to  speak  so  true.  But " 

"  But  what  ?  "  said  Ralph. 


FACE  TO   FACE.  183 

"  But  you  know  how  I  saw  you  just  as  kind  to 
Martha  Hawkins  on  Sunday  as — as " 

"  Han — ner!  "  It  was  the  melodious  voice  of  the 
angry  Mrs.  Means,  and  Hannah  lifted  her  pail  and 
disappeared. 

Standing  in  the  shadow  of  his  own  despair,  Ralph 
felt  how  dark  a  night  could  be  when  it  had  no  prom 
ise  of  morning. 

And  Dr.  Small,  who  had  been  stabling  his  horse 
just  inside  the  barn,  came  out  and  moved  quietly 
into  the  house  just  as  though  he  had  not  listened 
intently  to  every  word  of  the  conversation. 

As  Ralph  walked  away  he  tried  to  comfort  him 
self  by  calling  to  his  aid  the  bulldog  in  his  charac 
ter.  But  somehow  it  did  not  do  him  any  good.  For 
what  is  a  bulldog  but  a  stoic  philosopher  ?  Stoi 
cism  has  its  value,  but  Ralph  had  come  to  a  place 
where  stoicism  was  of  no  account.  The  memory  of 
the  Helper,  of  his  sorrow,  his  brave  and  victorious 
endurance,  came  when  stoicism  failed.  Happiness 
might  go  out  of  life,  but  in  the  light  of  Christ's  life 
happiness  seemed  but  a  small  element  anyhow. 
The  love  of  woman  might  be  denied  him,  but  there 
still  remained  what  was  infinitely  more  precious 
and  holy,  the  love  of  God.  There  still  remained 
the  possibility  of  heroic  living.  Working,  suffering, 
and  enduring  still  remained.  And  he  who  can  work 


1 84  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

for  God  and  endure  for  God,  surely  has  yet  the  best 
of  life  left.  And,  like  the  knights  who  could  find 
the  Holy  Grail  only  in  losing  themselves,  Hartsook, 
in  throwing  his  happiness  out  of  the  count,  found 
the  purest  happiness,  a  sense  of  the  victory  of  the 
soul  over  the  tribulations  of  life.  The  man  who 
knows  this  victory  scarcely  needs  the  encourage 
ment  of  the  hope  of  future  happiness.  There  is  a 
real  heaven  in  bravely  lifting  the  load  of  one's  own 
sorrow  and  work. 

And  it  was  a  good  thing  for  Ralph  that  the  dan 
ger  hanging  over  Shocky  made  immediate  action 
necessary. 


CHAPTER   XX. 

GOD  REMEMBERS  SHOCKY. 

AT  four  o'clock  the  next  morning,  in  the  midst 
of  a  driving  snow,  Ralph  went  timidly  up  the  lane 
toward  the  homely  castle  of  the  Meanses.  He 
went  timidly,  for  he  was  afraid  of  Bull.  But  he 
found  Bud  waiting  for  him,  with  the  roan  colt  bri 
dled  and  saddled.  The  roan  colt  was  really  a  large 
three-year-old,  full  of  the  finest  sort  of  animal  life, 
and  having,  as  Bud  declared,  "  a  mighty  sight  of  hoss 
sense  fer  his  age."  He  seemed  to  understand  at 
once  that  there  was  something  extraordinary  on 
hand  when  he  was  brought  out  of  his  comfortable 
quarters  at  four  in  the  morning  in  the  midst  of  a 
snow-storm.  Bud  was  sure  that  the  roan  colt  felt 
his  responsibility. 

In  the  days  that  followed,  Ralph  often  had  occa 
sion  to  remember  this  interview  with  Bud,  who  had 
risked  much  in  bringing  his  fractured  arm  out  into 
the  cold,  damp  air.  Jonathan  never  clave  to  David 
more  earnestly  than  did  Bud  this  December  '*"'ttn- 
ing  to  Ralph. 


1 86  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

"  You  see,  Mr.  Hartsook,"  said  Bud,  "  I  wish  I  was 
well  myself.  It's  hard  to  set  still.  But  it's  a-doing 
me  a  heap  of  good.  I'm  like  a  boy  at  school. 
And  I'm  a-findin'  out  that  doing  one's  best  licks  fer 
others  ain't  all  they  is  of  it,  though  it's  a  good  part. 
I  feel  like  as  if  I  must  git  Him,  you  know,  to  do 
lots  for  me.  They's  always  some  sums  too  hard  fer 
a  feller,  and  he  has  to  ax  the  master  to  do  'em,  you 
know.  But  see,  the  roan's  a-stomping  round.  He 
wants  to  be  off.  Do  you  know  I  think  that  hoss 
knows  something's  up  ?  I  think  he  puts  in  his  best 
licks  fer  me  a  good  deal  better  than  I  do  fer  Him." 

Ralph  pressed  Bud's  right  hand.  Bud  rubbed  his 
face  against  the  colt's  nose  and  said :  "  Put  in  your 
best  licks,  old  fellow."  And  the  colt  whinnied. 
How  a  horse  must  want  to  speak!  For  Bud  was 
right.  Men  are  gods  to  horses,  and  they  serve 
their  deities  with  a  faithfulness  that  shames  us. 

Then  Ralph  sprang  into  the  saddle,  and  the  roan, 
as  if  wishing  to  show  Bud  his  willingness,  broke  into 
a  swinging  gallop,  and  was  soon  lost  to  the  sight  of 
his  master  in  the  darkness  and  the  snow.  When 
Bud  could  no  more  hear  the  sound  of  the  roan's 
footsteps  he  returned  to  the  house,  to  lie  awake 
picturing  to  himself  the  journey  of  Ralph  with 
Shocky  and  the  roan  colt.  It  was  a  great  comfort 
to  Bud  that  the  roan,  which  was  almost  a  part  of 


GOD   REMEMBERS   SHOCKY.  187 

himself,  represented  him  in  this  ride.  And  he  knew 
the  roan  well  enough  to  feel  sure  that  he  would  do 
credit  to  his  master.  "  He'll  put  in  his  best  licks," 
Bud  whispered  to  himself  many  a  time  before  day 
break. 

The  ground  was  but  little  frozen,  and  the  snow 
made  the  roads  more  slippery  than  ever.  But  the 
rough-shod  roan  handled  his  feet  dexterously  and 
with  a  playful  and  somewhat  self-righteous  air,  as 
though  he  said :  "  Didn't  I  do  it  handsomely  that 
time?"  Down  slippery  hills,  through  deep  mud- 
holes  covered  with  a  slender  film  of  ice  he  trod  with 
perfect  assurance.  And  then  up  over  the  rough 
stones  of  Rocky  Hollow,  where  there  was  no  road  at 
all,  he  picked  his  way  through  the  darkness  and 
snow.  Ralph  could  not  tell  where  he  was  at  last, 
but  gave  the  reins  to  the  roan,  who  did  his  duty 
bravely,  and  not  without  a  little  flourish,  to  show 
that  he  had  yet  plenty  of  spare  power. 

A  feeble  candle-ray,  making  the  dense  snow-fall 
visible,  marked  for  Ralph  the  site  of  the  basket- 
maker's  cabin.  Miss  Martha  had  been  admitted 
to  the  secret,  and  had  joined  in  the  conspiracy 
heartily,  without  being  able  to  recall  nnything  of 
the  kind  having  occurred  at  the  East,  and  not  re 
membering  having  seen  or  heard  of  anything  of  the 
sort  the  time  she  was  to  Bosting.  She  had  Shocky 


1 88  THE  HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

all  ready,  having  used  some  of  her  own  capes  and 
shawls  to  make  him  warm. 

Miss  Martha  came  out  to  meet  Ralph  when  she 
heard  the  feet  of  the  roan  before  the  door. 

"  O  Mr.  Hartsook!  is  that  you  ?  What  a  storm ! 
This  is  jest  the  way  it  snows  at  the  East.  Shocky's 
all  ready.  He  didn't  know  a  thing  about  it  tell  I 
waked  him  this  morning.  Ever  since  that  he's  been 
saying  that  God  hasn't  forgot,  after  all.  It's  made 
me  cry  more'n  once."  And  Shocky  kissed  Mrs. 
Pearson,  and  told  her  that  when  he  got  away  from 
Flat  Creek  he'd  tell  God  all  about  it,  and  God 
would  bring  Mr.  Pearson  back  again.  And  then 
Martha  Hawkins  lifted  the  frail  little  form,  bundled 
in  shawls,  in  her  arms,  and  brought  him  out  into  the 
storm;  and  before  she  handed  him  up  he  embraced 
her,  and  said:  "  O  Miss  Hawkins!  God  ha'n't  for 
got  me,  after  all.  Tell  Hanner  that  He  ha'n't  for 
got.  I'm  going  to  ask  him  to  git  her  away  from 
Means's  and  mother  out  of  the  poor-house.  I'll 
ask  him  just  as  soon  as  I  get  to  Lewisburg." 

Ralph  lifted  the  trembling  form  into  his  arms, 
and  the  little  fellow  only  looked  up  in  the  face  of 
the  master  and  said :  "  You  see,  Mr.  Hartsook,  I 
thought  God  had  forgot.  But  he  ha'n't." 

And  the  words  of  the  little  boy  comforted  the 
master  also.  God  had  not  forgotten  him,  either ! 


GOD   REMEMBERS   SHOCKY.  189 

From  the  moment  that  Ralph  took  Shocky  into 
his  arms,  the  conduct  of  the  roan  colt  underwent 
an  entire  revolution.  Before  that  he  had  gone  over 
a  bad  place  with  a  rush,  as  though  he  were  ambi 
tious  of  distinguishing  himself  by  his  brilliant  exe 
cution.  Now  he  trod  none  the  less  surely,  but  he 
trod  tenderly.  The  neck  was  no  longer  arched. 
He  set  himself  to  his  work  as  steadily  as  though  he 
were  twenty  years  old.  For  miles  he  traveled  on 
in  a  long,  swinging  walk,  putting  his  feet  down 
carefully  and  firmly.  And  Ralph  found  the  spirit 
of  the  colt  entering  into  himself.  He  cut  the  snow 
storm  with  his  face,  and  felt  a  sense  of  triumph  over 
all  his  difficulties.  The  bulldog's  jaws  had  been 
his  teacher,  and  now  the  steady,  strong,  and  con 
scientious  legs  of  the  roan  inspired  him. 

Shocky  had  not  spoken.  He  lay  listening  to  the 
pattering  music  of  the  horse's  feet,  doubtless  fram 
ing  the  footsteps  of  the  roan  colt  into  an  anthem  of 
praise  to  the  God  who  had  not  forgot.  But  as  the 
dawn  came  on,  making  the  snow  whiter,  he  raised 
himself  and  said  half-aloud,  as  he  watched  the  flakes 
chasing  one  another  in  whirling  eddies,  that  the 
snow  seemed  to  be  having  a  good  time  of  it.  Then 
he  leaned  down  again  on  the  master's  bosom,  full  of 
a  still  joy,  and  only  roused  himself  from  his  happy 
reverie  to  ask  what  that  big,  ugly-looking  house  was. 


190  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

"  See,  Mr.  Hartsook,  how  big  it  is,  and  how  little 
and  ugly  the  windows  is !  And  the  boards  is  peel 
ing  off  all  over  it,  and  the  hogs  is  right  in  the  front 
yard.  It  don't  look  just  like  a  house.  It  looks 
dreadful.  What  is  it  ?  " 

Ralph  had  dreaded  this  question.  He  did  not 
answer  it,  but  asked  Shocky  to  change  his  position 
a  little,  and  then  he  quickened  the  pace  of  the  horse. 
But  Shocky  was  a  poet,  and  a  poet  understands 
silence  more  quickly  than  he  does  speech.  The 
little  fellow  shivered  as  the  truth  came  to  him. 

"  Is  that  the  poor-house  ?  "  he  said,  catching  his 
breath.  "  Is  my  mother  in  that  place  ?  Wont  you 
take  me  in  there,  so  as  I  can  just  kiss  her  once  ? 
'Cause  she  can't  see  much,  you  know.  And  one 
kiss  from  me  will  make  her  feel  so  good.  And  I'll 
tell  her  that  God  ha'n't  forgot."  He  had  raised 
up  and  caught  hold  of  Ralph's  coat. 

Ralph  had  great  difficulty  in  quieting  him.  He 
told  him  that  if  he  went  in  there  Bill  Jones  might 
claim  that  he  was  a  runaway  and  belonged  there. 
And  poor  Shocky  only  shivered  and  said  he  was 
cold.  A  minute  later,  Ralph  found  that  he  was 
shaking  with  a  chill,  and  a  horrible  dread  came 
over  him.  What  if  Shocky  should  die?  It  was 
only  a  minute's  work  to  get  down,  take  the  warm 
horse-blanket  from  under  the  saddle,  and  wrap  it 


GOD   REMEMBERS   SHOCKY.  igi 

about  the  boy,  then  to  strip  off  his  own  overcoat 
and  add  that  to  it.  It  was  now  daylight,  and  find 
ing,  after  he  had  mounted,  that  Shocky  continued 
to  shiver,  he  put  the  roan  to  his  best  speed  for  the 
rest  of  the  way,  trotting  up  and  down  the  slippery 
hills,  and  galloping  away  on  the  level  ground.  How 
bravely  the  roan  laid  himself  to  his  work,  making 
the  fence-corners  fly  past  in  a  long  procession! 
But  poor  little  Shocky  was  too  cold  to  notice  them, 
and  Ralph  shuddered  lest  Shocky  should  never  be 
warm  again,  and  spoke  to  the  roan,  and  the  roan 
stretched  out  his  head,  and  dropped  one  ear  back 
to  hear  the  first  word  of  command,  and  stretched 
the  other  forward  to  listen  for  danger,  and  then 
flew  with  a  splendid  speed  down  the  road,  past  the 
patches  of  blackberry  briars,  past  the  elderberry 
bushes,  past  the  familiar  red-haw  tree  in  the  fence- 
corner,  over  the  bridge  without  regard  to  the  threat 
of  a  five-dollar  fine,  and  at  last  up  the  long  lane 
into  the  village,  where  the  smoke  from  the  chimneys 
was  caught  and  whirled  round  with  the  snow. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

MISS   NANCY   SAWYER. 

IN  a  little  old  cottage  in  Lewisburg,  on  one  of 
the  streets  which  was  never  traveled  except  by  a 
solitary  cow  seeking  pasture  or  a  countryman 
bringing  wood  to  some  one  of  the  half-dozen  fami 
lies  living  in  it,  and  which  in  summer  was  decked 
with  a  profusion  of  the  yellow  and  white  blossoms 
of  the  dog-fennel — in  this  unfrequented  street,  so 
generously  and  unnecessarily  broad,  lived  Miss 
Nancy  Sawyer  and  her  younger  sister  Semantha. 
Miss  Nancy  was  a  providence,  one  of  those  old 
maids  that  are  benedictions  to  the  whole  town; 
one  of  those  in  whom  the  mother-love,  wanting 
the  natural  objects  on  which  to  spend  itself,  over 
flows  all  bounds  and  lavishes  itself  on  every  needy 
thing,  and  grows  richer  and  more  abundant  with 
the  spending,  a  fountain  of  inexhaustible  blessing. 
There  is  no  nobler  life  possible  to  any  one  than  to 
an  unmarried  woman.  The  more  shame  that  some 
choose  a  selfish  one,  and  thus  turn  to  gall  all  the 

affection    with    which   they   are    endowed.      Miss 

192 


MISS  NANCY  SAWYER.  IQ3 

Nancy  Sawyer  had  been  Ralph's  Sunday-school 
teacher,  and  it  was  precious  little,  so  far  as  infor 
mation  went,  that  he  learned  from  her ;  for  she 
never  could  conceive  of  Jerusalem  as  a  place  in  any 
essential  regard  very  different  from  Lewisburg, 
where  she  had  spent  her  life.  But  Ralph  learned 
from  her  what  most  Sunday-school  teachers  fail  to 
teach,  the  great  lesson  of  Christianity,  by  the  side 
of  which  all  antiquities  and  geographies  and  chro 
nologies  and  exegetics  and  other  niceties  are  as 
nothing. 

And  now  he  turned  the  head  of  the  rvsan  toward 
the  cottage  of  Miss  Nancy  Sawyer  as  naturally  as 
the  roan  would  have  gone  to  his  own  stall  i»  the 
stable  at  home.  The  snow  had  gradually  ceased 
to  fall,  and  was  eddying  round  the  house,  when 
Ralph  dismounted  from  his  foaming  horse,  and, 
carrying  the  still  form  of  Shocky  as  reverently  as 
though  it  had  been  something  heavenly,  knocked 
at  Miss  Nancy  Sawyer's  door. 

With  natural  feminine  instinct  that  lady  started 
back  when  she  saw  Hartsook,  for  she  had  just  built 
a  fire  in  the  stove,  arid  she  now  stood  at  the  door 
with  unwashed  face  and  uncombed  hair. 

"  Why,  Ralph  Hartsook,  where  did  you  drop 
down  from — and  what  have  you  got  ?  " 

"  I  came  from   Flat  Creek  this  morning,  and  I 


194  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

brought  you  a  little  angel  who  has  got  out  of 
heaven,  and  needs  some  of  your  motherly  care." 

Shocky  was  brought  in.  The  chill  shook  him 
now  by  fits  only,  for  a  fever  had  spotted  his  cheeks 
already. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  said  Miss  Nancy,  as  she  un 
wrapped  him. 

"  I'm  Shocky,  a  little  boy  as  God  forgot,  and  then 
thought  of  again." 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

PANCAKES. 

HALF  an  hour  later,  Ralph,  having  seen  Miss 
Nancy  Sawyer's  machinery  of  warm  baths  and 
simple  remedies  safely  in  operation,  and  having 
seen  the  roan  colt  comfortably  stabled,  and  re 
warded  for  his  faithfulness  by  a  bountiful  supply 
of  the  best  hay  and  the  promise  of  oats  when  he 
was  cool — half  an  hour  later  Ralph  was  doing  the 
most  ample,  satisfactory,  and  amazing  justice  to  his 
Aunt  Matilda's  hot  buckwheat-cakes  and  warm 
coffee.  And  after  his  life  in  Flat  Creek,  Aunt  Ma 
tilda's  house  did  look  like  paradise.  How  white 
the  table-cloth,  how  bright  the  coffee-pot,  how  clean 
the  wood-work,  how  glistening  the  brass  door-knobs, 
how  spotless  everything  that  came  under  the  sov 
ereign  sway  of  Mrs.  Matilda  White !  For  in  every 
Indiana  village  as  large  as  Lewisburg,  there  are 
generally  a  half-dozen  women  who  are  admitted  to 
be  the  best  housekeepers.  All  others  are  only  imi 
tators.  And  the  strife  is  between  these  for  the 
pre  eminence.  It  is  at  least  safe  to  say  that  no 

other  in  Lewisburg  stood  so  high  as  an  enemy  to 

4BK 


196  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

dirt,  and  as  a  "  rat,  roach,  and  mouse  extermina 
tor,"  as  did  Mrs.  Matilda  White,  the  wife  of  Ralph's 
maternal  uncle,  Robert  White,  Esq.,  a  lawyer  in 
successful  practice.  Of  course  no  member  of  Mrs. 
White's  family  ever  stayed  at  home  longer  than  was 
necessary.  Her  husband  found  his  office — which 
he  kept  in  as  bad  a  state  as  possible  in  order  to 
maintain  an  equilibrium  in  his  life  —  much  more 
comfortable  than  the  stiffly  clean  house  at  home. 
From  the  time  that  Ralph  had  come  to  live  as  a 
chore-boy  at  his  uncle's,  he  had  ever  crossed  the 
threshold  of  Aunt  Matilda's  temple  of  cleanliness 
with  a  horrible  sense  of  awe.  And  Walter  John 
son,  her  son  by  a  former  marriage,  had — poor,  weak 
willed  fellow ! — been  driven  into  bad  company  and 
bad  habits  by  the  wretchedness  of  extreme  civiliza 
tion.  And  yet  he  showed  the  hereditary  trait,  for 
all  the  genius  which  Mrs.  White  consecrated  to  the 
glorious  work  of  making  her  house  too  neat  to  be 
habitable,  her  son  Walter  gave  to  tying  exquisite 
knots  in  his  colored  cravats  and  combing  his  oiled 
locks  so  as  to  look  like  a  dandy  barber.  And  she 
had  no  other  children.  The  kind  Providence  that 
watches  over  the  destiny  of  children  takes  care  that 
very  few  of  them  are  lodged  in  these  terribly  clean 
houses. 

But  Walter  was  not  at  the  table,  and  Ralph  had 


PANCAKES.  197 

so  much  anxiety  lest  his  absence  should  be  sig 
nificant  of  evil,  that  he  did  not  venture  to  inquire 
after  him  as  he  sat  there  between  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
White  disposing  of  Aunt  Matilda's  cakes  with  an 
appetite  only  justified  by  his  long  morning's  ride 
and  the  excellence  of  the  brown  cakes,  the  golden 
honey,  and  the  coffee,  enriched,  as  Aunt  Matilda's 
always  was,  with  the  most  generous  cream.  Aunt 
Matilda  was  so  absorbed  in  telling  of  the  doings 
of  the  Dorcas  Society  that  she  entirely  forgot  to  be 
surprised  at  the  early  hour  of  Ralph's  arrival. 
When  she  had  described  the  number  of  the  gar 
ments  finished  to  be  sent  to  the  Five  Points  Mis 
sion,  or  the  Home  for  the  Friendless,  or  the  South 
Sea  Islands,  I  forget  which,  Ralph  thought  he  saw 
his  chance,  while  Aunt  Matilda  was  in  a  benevo 
lent  mood,  to  broach  a  plan  he  had  been  revolving 
for  some  time.  But  when  he  looked  at  Aunt  Ma 
tilda's  immaculate — horribly  immaculate  —  house 
keeping,  his  heart  failed  him,  and  he  would  have 
said  nothing  had  she  not  inadvertently  opened  the 
door  herself. 

"How  did  you  get  here  so  early,  Ralph?"  and 
Aunt  Matilda's  face  was  shadowed  with  a  coming 
rebuke. 

"  By  early  rising,"  said  Ralph.  But,  seeing  the 
gathering  frown  on  his  aunt's  brow,  he  hastened  to 


198  THE   HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

tell  the  story  of  Shocky  as  well  as  he  could.  Mrs. 
White  did  not  give  way  to  any  impulse  toward 
sympathy  until  she  learned  that  Shocky  was  safely 
housed  with  Miss  Nancy  Sawyer. 

"Yes,  Sister  Sawyer  has  no  family  cares,"  she 
said  by  way  of  smoothing  her  slightly  ruffled  com 
placency,  "  she  has  no  family  cares,  and  she  can  do 
those  things.  Sometimes  I  think  she  lets  people 
impose  on  her  and  keep  her  away  from  the  means 
of  grace,  and  I  spoke  to  our  new  preacher  about  it 
the  last  time  he  was  here,  and  asked  him  to  speak 
to  Sister  Sawyer  about  staying  away  from  the  ordi 
nances  to  wait  on  everybody,  but  he  is  a  queer 
man,  and  he  only  said  that  he  supposed  Sister 
Sawyer  neglected  the  inferior  ordinances  that  she 
might  attend  to  higher  ones.  But  I  don't  see  any 
sense  in  a  minister  of  the  gospel  calling  prayer- 
meeting  a  lower  ordinance  than  feeding  catnip-tea 
to  Mrs.  Brown's  last  baby.  But  hasn't  this  little 
boy — Shocking,  or  what  do  you  call  him? — got  any 
mother  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Ralph,  "  and  that  was  just  what  I  was 
going  to  say."  And  he  proceeded  to  tell  how  anx 
ious  Shocky  was  to  see  his  half-blind  mother,  and 
actually  ventured  to  wind  up  his  remarks  by  sug 
gesting  that  Shocky 's  mother  be  invited  to  stay 
over  Sunday  in  Aunt  Matilda's  house. 


PANCAKES.  199 

"  Bless  my  stars ! "  said  that  astounded  saint, 
"  fetch  a  pauper  here  ?  What  crazy  notions  you 
have  got !  Fetch  her  here  out  of  the  poor-house  ? 

Why,  she  wouldn't  be  fit  to  sleep  in  my "  here 

Aunt  Matilda  choked.  The  bare  thought  of  hav 
ing  a  pauper  in  her  billowy  beds,  whose  snowy 
whiteness  was  frightful  to  any  ordinary  mortal,  the 
bare  thought  of  the  contagion  of  the  poor-house 
taking  possession  of  one  of  her  beds,  smothered 
her.  "And  then  you  know  sore  eyes  are  very 
catching." 

Ralph  boiled  a  little.  "Aunt  Matilda,  do  you 
think  Dorcas  was  afraid  of  sore  eyes  ?  " 

It  was  a  center  shot,  and  the  lawyer-uncle, 
lawyerlike,  enjoyed  a  good  hit.  And  he  enjoyed  a 
good  hit  at  his  wife  best  of  all,  for  he  never  ven 
tured  on  one  himself.  But  Aunt  Matilda  felt  that 
a  direct  reply  was  impossible.  She  was  not  a  law 
yer  but  a  woman,  and  so  dodged  the  question  by 
making  a  counter-charge. 

"  It  seems  to  me,  Ralph,  that  you  have  picked  up 
some  very  low  associates.  And  you  go  around  at 
night,  I  am  told.  You  get  over  here  by  daylight, 
and  I  hear  that  you  have  made  common  cause  with 
a  lame  soldier  who  acts  as  a  spy  for  thieves,  and 
that  your  running  about  of  night  is  likely  to  get 
you  into  trouble." 


200  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

Ralph  was  hit  this  time.  "  I  suppose,"  he  said, 
"that  you've  been  listening  to  some  of  Henry 
Small's  lies." 

"  Why,  Ralph,  how  you  talk !  The  worst  sign  of 
all  is  that  you  abuse  such  a  young  man  as  Dr. 
Small,  the  most  exemplary  Christian  young  man  in 
the  county.  And  he  is  a  great  friend  of  yours,  for 
when  he  was  here  last  week  he  did  not  say  a  word 
against  you,  but  looked  so  sorry  when  your  being 
in  trouble  was  mentioned.  Didn't  he,  Mr.  White  ?  " 

Mr.  White,  as  in  duty  bound,  said  yes,  but  he 
said  yes  in  a  cool,  lawyerlike  way,  which  showed 
that  he  did  not  take  quite  so  much  stock  in  Dr. 
Small  as  his  wife  did.  This  was  a  comfort  to 
Ralph,  who  sat  picturing  to  himself  the  silent  flat 
tery  which  Dr.  Small's  eyes  paid  to  his  Aunt  Ma 
tilda,  and  the  quiet  expression  of  pain  that  would 
flit  across  his  face  when  Ralph's  name  was  men 
tioned.  And  never  until  that  moment  had  Hartsook 
understood  how  masterful  Small's  artifices  were. 
He  had  managed  to  elevate  himself  in  Mrs.  White's 
estimation  and  to  destroy  Ralph  at  the  same  time, 
and  had  managed  to  do  both  by  a  contraction  of 
the  eyebrows! 

But  the  silence  was  growing  painful  and  Ralph 
thought  to  break  it  and  turn  the  current  of  talk 
from  himself  by  asking  after  Mrs.  White's  son. 


PANCAKES.  201 

"  Where  is  Walter  ?  " 

"  Oh !  Walter's  doing  well.  He  went  down  to 
Clifty  three  weeks  ago  to  study  medicine  with  Henry 
Small.  He  seems  so  fond  of  the  doctor,  and  the 
doctor  is  such  an  excellent  man,  you  know,  and  I 
have  strong  hopes  that  Wallie  will  be  led  to  see  the 
error  of  his  ways  by  his  association  with  Henry. 
I  suppose  he  would  have  gone  to  see  you  but  for 
the  unfavorable  reports  that  he  heard.  I  hope, 
Ralph,  you  too  will  make  the  friendship  of  Dr. 
Small.  And  for  the  sake  of  your  poor,  dead  moth 
er" —  here  Aunt  Matilda  endeavored  to  show 
some  emotion — "  for  the  sake  of  your  poor,  dead 
mother " 

But  Ralph  heard  no  more.  The  buckwheat-cakes 
had  lost  their  flavor.  He  remembered  that  the 
colt  had  not  yet  had  his  oats,  and  so,  in  the  very 
midst  of  Aunt  Matilda's  affecting  allusion  to  his 
mother,  like  a  stiff-necked  reprobate  that  he  was, 
Ralph  Hartsook  rose  abruptly  from  the  table,  put 
on  his  hat,  and  went  out  toward  the  stable. 

"I  declare,"  said  Mrs.  White,  descending  suddenly 
from  her  high  moral  stand-point,  "  I  declare  that 
boy  has  stepped  right  on  the  threshold  of  the  back 
door,"  and  she  stuffed  her  white  handkerchief  into 
her  pocket,  and  took  down  the  floor-cloth  to  wipe 
off  the  imperceptible  blemish  left  by  Ralph's  boot- 


2O2  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

heels.  And  Mr.  White  followed  his  nephew  to  the 
stable  to  request  that  he  would  be  a  little  careful 
what  he  did  about  anybody  in  the  poor-house,  as 
any  trouble  with  the  Joneses  might  defeat  Mr. 
White's  nomination  to  the  judgeship  of  the  Court 
of  Common  Pleas. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

A  CHARITABLE  INSTITUTION. 

WHEN  Ralph  got  back  to  Miss  Nancy  Sawyer's, 
Shocky  was  sitting  up  in  bed  talking  to  Miss  Nancy 
and  Miss  Semantha.  His  cheeks  were  a  little  flushed 
with  fever  and  the  excitement  of  telling  his  story; 
theirs  were  wet  with  tears.  "  Ralph,"  whispered 
Miss  Nancy,  as  she  drew  him  into  the  kitchen,  "  I 
want  you  to  get  a  buggy  or  a  sleigh,  and  go  right 
over  to  the  poor-house  and  fetch  that  boy's  mother 
over  here.  It'll  do  me  more  good  than  any  sermon 
I  ever  heard  to  see  that  boy  in  his  mother's  arms  to 
morrow.  We  can  keep  the  old  lady  over  Sunday." 

Ralph  was  delighted,  so  delighted  that  he  came 
hear  kissing  good  Miss  Nancy  Sawyer,  whose  plain 
face  was  glorified  by  her  generosity. 

But  he  did  not  go  to  the  poor-house  immediately. 
He  waited  until  he  saw  Bill  Jones,  the  Superinten 
dent  of  the  Poor-House,  and  Pete  Jones,  the  County 
Commissioner,  who  was  still  somewhat  shuck  up, 
ride  up  to  the  court-house.  Then  he  drove  out  of 
the  village,  and  presently  hitched  his  horse  to  the 

poor-house  fence,  and  took  a  survey  of  the  outside. 

103 


204  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

Forty  hogs,  nearly  ready  for  slaughter,  wallowed 
in  a  pen  in  front  of  the  forlorn  and  dilapidated 
house;  for  though  the  commissioners  allowed  a 
claim  for  repairs  at  every  meeting,  the  repairs  were 
never  made,  and  it  would  not  do  to  scrutinize  Mr. 
Jones's  bills  too  closely,  unless  you  gave  up  all  hope 
of  renomination  to  office.  One  curious  effect  of 
political  aspirations  in  Hoopole  County,  was  to 
shut  the  eyes  that  they  could  not  see,  to  close  the 
ears  that  they  could  not  hear,  and  to  destroy  the 
sense  of  smell.  But  Ralph,  not  being  a  politician, 
smelled  the  hog-pen  without  and  the  stench  within, 
and  saw  everywhere  the  transparent  fraud,  and 
heard  the  echo  of  Jones's  cruelty. 

A  weak-eyed  girl  admitted  him,  and  as  he  did  not 
wish  to  make  his  business  known  at  once,  he  affected 
a  sort  of  idle  interest  in  the  place,  and  asked  to 
be  allowed  to  look  round.  The  weak-eyed  girl 
watched  him.  He  found  that  all  the  women  with 
children,  twenty  persons  in  all,  were  obliged  to  sleep 
in  one  room,  which,  owing  to  the  hill-slope,  was 
partly  under  ground,  and  which  had  but  half  a  win 
dow  for  light,  and  no  ventilation,  except  the  chance 
draft  from  the  door.  Jones  had  declared  that  the 
women  with  children  must  stay  there — "he  warn't 
goin'  to  have  brats  a-runnin'  over  the  whole  house." 
Here  were  vicious  women  and  good  women,  with 


A   CHARITABLE   INSTITUTION.  2O5 

their  children,  crowded  like  chickens  in  a  coop  for 
market.  And  there  were,  as  usual  in  such  places, 
helpless,  idiotic  women  with  illegitimate  children. 
Of  course  this  room  was  the  scene  of  perpetual  quar 
reling  and  occasional  righting. 

In  the  quarters  devoted  to  the  insane,  people 
slightly  demented  and  raving  maniacs  were  in  the 
same  rooms,  while  there  were  also  those  utter 
wrecks  which  sat  in  heaps  on  the  floor,  mumbling 
and  muttering  unintelligible  words,  the  whole  cur 
rent  of  their  thoughts  hopelessly  muddled,  turning 
around  upon  itself  in  eddies  never  ending. 

"  That  air  woman,"  said  the  weak-eyed  girl,  "  used 
to  holler  a  heap  when  she  was  brought  in  here. 
But  Pap  knows  how  to  subjue  'em.  He  slapped 
her  in  the  mouth  every  time  she  hollered.  She 
don't  make  no  furss  now,  but  jist  sets  down  that 
way  all  day,  and  keeps  a-whisperin'." 

Ralph  understood  it.  When  she  came  in  she  was 
the  victim  of  mania;  but  she  had  been  beaten  into 
hopeless  idiocy.  Indeed  this  state  of  incurable  im 
becility  seemed  the  end  toward  which  all  traveled. 
Shut  in  these  bare  rooms,  with  no  treatment,  no 
exercise,  no  variety,  and  meager  food,  cases  of 
slight  derangement  soon  grew  into  chronic  lunacy. 

One  young  woman,  called  Phil,  a  sweet-faced 
person,  apparently  a  farmer's  wife,  came  up  to 


206  THE   HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

Ralph  and  looked  at  him  kindly,  playing  with  the 
buttons  on  his  coat  in  a  childlike  simplicity.  Her 
blue-drilling  dress  was  sewed  all  over  with  patches 
of  white,  representing  ornamental  buttons.  The 
womanly  instinct  toward  adornment  had  in  her 
taken  this  childish  turn. 

"  Don't  you  think  they  ought  to  let  me  go  home  ?  '' 
she  said  with  a  sweetness  and  a  wistful,  longing, 
home-sick  look,  that  touched  Ralph  to  the  heart. 
He  looked  at  her,  and  then  at  the  muttering  crones, 
and  he  could  see  no  hope  of  any  better  fate  for  her. 
She  followed  him  round  the  barn-like  rooms,  re 
turning  every  now  and  then  to  her  question,  "  Don't 
you  think  I  might  go  home  now  ?  " 

The  weak-eyed  girl  had  been  called  away  for  a 
moment,  and  Ralph  stood  looking  into  a  cell, 
where  there  was  a  man  with  a  gay  red  plume  in  his 
hat  and  a  strip  of  red  flannel  about  his  waist.  He 
strutted  up  and  down  like  a  drill-sergeant. 

"  I  am  General  Andrew  Jackson,"  he  began. 
'*  People  don't  believe  it,  but  I  am.  I  had  my  head 
shot  off  at  Bueny  Visty,  and  the  new  one  that 
growed  on  isn't  nigh  so  good  as  the  old  one ;  it's 
tater  on  one  side.1  That's  why  they  take  advantage 

1  Some  time  after  this  book  appeared  Dr.  Brown-Sequard  announced 
his  theory  of  the  dual  brain.  A  writer  in  an  English  magazine  called 
Attention  to  the  fact  that  the  discovery  had  been  anticipated  by  an 


A  CHARITABLE   INSTITUTION.  2O/ 

of  me  to  shut  me  up.  But  I  know  some  things. 
My  head  is  tater  on  one  side,  but  it's  all  right  on 
t'other.  And  when  I  know  a  thing  in  the  left  side 
of  my  head,  I  know  it.  Lean  down  here.  Let  me 
tell  you  something  out  of  the  left  side.  Not  out  of 
the  tater  side,  mind  ye.  I  wouldn't  a  told  you  if 
he  hadn't  locked  me  up  fer  nothing.  Bill  Jones  is 
a  thief !  He  sells  the  bodies  of  the  dead  paupers, 
and  then  sells  the  empty  coffins  back  to  the  county 
agin.  But  that  a'n't  all " 

Just  then  the  weak-eyed  girl  came  back,  and,  as 
Ralph  moved  away,  General  Jackson  called  out: 
"That  a'n't  all.  I'll  tell  the  rest  another  time. 
And  that  a'n't  out  of  the  tater  side,  you  can  de 
pend  on  that.  That's  out  of  the  left  side.  Sound 
as  a  nut  on  that  side!  " 

But  Ralph  began  to  wonder  where  he  should 
find  Hannah's  mother. 

"  Don't  go  in  there,"  cried  the  weak-eyed  girl,  as 
Ralph  was  opening  a  door.  "  Ole  Mowley's  in 
there,  and  she'll  cuss  you." 

"Oh!  well,  if  that's  all,  her  curses  won't  hurt," 

imaginative  writer,  and  cited  the  passage  in  the  text  as  proving  that 
the  author  of  "  The  Hoosier  School-Master  "  had  outrun  Dr.  Brown- 
Sequard  in  perceiving  the  duality  of  the  brain.  It  is  a  matter  for 
surprise  that  an  author,  even  an  "imaginative"  one,  should  have 
made  so  great  a  discovery  without  suspecting  its  meaning  until  it  was 
explained  by  some  one  else. 


208  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

said  Hartsook,  pushing  open  the  door.  But  the  vol 
ley  of  blasphemy  and  vile  language  that  he  received 
made  him  stagger.  The  old  hag  paced  the  floor, 
abusing  everybody  that  came  in  her  way.  And  by 
the  window,  in  the  same  room,  feeling  the  light 
that  struggled  through  the  dusty  glass  upon  her 
face,  sat  a  sorrowful,  intelligent  Englishwoman. 
Ralph  noticed  at  once  that  she  was  English,  and 
in  a  few  moments  he  discovered  that  her  sight  was 
defective.  Could  it  be  that  Hannah's  mother  was 
the  room-mate  of  this  loathsome  creature,  whose 
profanity  and  obscenity  did  not  intermit  for  a 
moment  ? 

Happily  the  weak-eyed  girl  had  not  dared  to 
brave  the  curses  of  Mowley.  Ralph  stepped  for 
ward  to  the  woman  by  the  window,  and  greeted 
her. 

"  Is  this  Mrs.  Thomson  ?  " 

"  That  is  my  name,  sir,"  she  said,  turning  her 
face  toward  Ralph,  who  could  not  but  remark  the 
contrast  between  the  thorough  refinement  of  her 
manner  and  her  coarse,  scant,  unshaped  pauper- 
frock  of  blue  drilling. 

"  I  saw  your  daughter  yesterday." 

"  Did  you  see  my  boy  ?  " 

There  was  a  tremulousness  in  her  voice  and  an 
agitation  in  her  manner  which  disclosed  the  emo- 


A  CHARITABLE  INSTITUTION.  209 

tion  she  strove  in  vain  to  conceal.  For  only  the 
day  before  Bill  Jones  had  informed  her  that  Shocky 
would  be  bound  out  on  Saturday,  and  that  she 
would  find  that  goin'  agin  him  warn't  a  payin'  busi 
ness,  so  much  as  some  others  he  mout  mention. 

Ralph  told  her  about  Shocky's  safety.  I  shall 
not  write  down  the  conversation  here.  Critics 
would  say  that  it  was  an  overwrought  scene.  As 
if  all  the  world  were  as  cold  as  they!  All  I  can 
tell  is  that  this  refined  woman  had  all  she  could  do 
to  control  herself  in  her  eagerness  to  get  out  of  her 
prison-house,  away  from  the  blasphemies  of  Mowley, 
away  from  the  insults  of  Jones,  away  from  the 
sights  and  sounds  and  smells  of  the  place,  and, 
above  all,  her  eagerness  to  fly  to  the  little  shocky- 
head  from  whom  she  had  been  banished  for  two 
years.  It  seemed  to  her  that  she  could  gladly  die 
now,  if  she  could  die  with  that  flaxen  head  upon 
her  bosom. 

And  so,  in  spite  of  the  opposition  of  Bill  Jones's 
son,  who  threatened  her  with  every  sort  of  evil  if 
she  left,  Ralph  wrapped  Mrs.  Thomson's  blue  drill 
ing  in  Nancy  Sawyer's  shawl,  and  bore  the  feeble 
woman  off  to  Lewisburg.  And  as  they  drove  away, 
a  sad,  childlike  voice  cried  from  the  gratings  of  the 
upper  window,  "  Good-by  !  good-by  !  "  Ralph 
turned  and  saw  that  it  was  Phil,  poor  Phil,  for 


210  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

whom  there  was  no  deliverance.1  And  all  the  way 
back  Ralph  pronounced  mental  maledictions  on  the 
Dorcas  Society,  not  for  sending  garments  to  the 
Five  Points  or  the  South  Sea  Islands,  whichever  it 
was,  but  for  being  so  blind  to  the  sorrow  and  pov 
erty  within  its  reach.  He  did  not  know,  for  he  had 
not  read  the  reports  of  the  Boards  of  State  Chari 
ties,  that  nearly  all  alms-houses  are  very  much  like 
this,  and  that  the  State  of  New  York  is  not  better 
in  this  regard  than  Indiana.  And  he  did  not  know 
that  it  is  true  in  almost  all  other  counties,  as  it  was 
in  his  own,  that  "  Christian  "  people  do  not  think 
enough  of  Christ  to  look  for  him  in  these  lazar- 
houses. 

And  while  Ralph  denounced  the  Dorcas  Society, 
the  eager,  hungry  heart  of  the  mother  ran,  flew 
toward  the  little  white-headed  boy. 

No,  I  can  not  do  it ;  I  can  not  tell  you  about  that 
meeting.  I  am  sure  that  Miss  Nancy  Sawyer's  tea 
tasted  exceedingly  good  to  the  pauper,  who  had 
known  nothing  but  cold  water  for  years,  and  that 
the  bread  and  butter  were  delicious  to  a  palate  that 

1  The  reader  may  be  interested  to  know  that  ' '  Phil  "  was  drawn 
from  the  life,  as  was  old  Mowley  and  in  part  "General  Jackson" 
also.  Between  1867  and  1870,  I  visited  many  jails  and  poor-houses 
with  philanthropic  purpose,  publishing  the  results  of  my  examination 
in  some  cases  in  The  Chicago  Tribune.  Some  of  the  abuses  pointed 
out  were  reformed,  others  linger  till  this  day,  I  believe. 


A  CHARITABLE  INSTITUTION.  211 

had  eaten  poor-house  soup  for  dinner,  and  coarse 
poor-house  bread  and  vile  molasses  for  supper,  and 
that  without  change  for  three  years.  But  I  can 
not  tell  you  how  it  seemed  that  evening  to  Miss 
Nancy  Sawyer,  as  the  poor  English  lady  sat  in 
speechless  ecstacy,rocking  in  the  old  splint-bottomed 
rocking-chair  in  the  fire-light,  while  she  pressed  to 
her  bosom  with  all  the  might  of  her  enfeebled  arms, 
the  form  of  the  little  Shocky,  who  half-sobbed  and 
half-sang,  over  and  over  again,  "  God  ha'n't  forgot 
us,  mother ;  God  ha'n't  forgot  us." 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

THE   GOOD   SAMARITAN. 

THE  Methodist  church  to  which  Mrs.  Matilda 
White  and  Miss  Nancy  Sawyer  belonged  was  the 
leading  one  in  Lewisburg,  as  it  was  in  most  county- 
seat  villages  in  Indiana.  If  I  may  be  permitted  to 
express  my  candid  and  charitable  opinion  of  the 
difference  between  the  two  women,  I  shall  have  to 
use  the  old  Quaker  locution,  and  say  that  Miss 
Sawyer  was  a  Methodist  and  likewise  a  Christian ; 
Mrs.  White  was  a  Methodist,  but  I  fear  she  was  not 
likewise. 

As  to  the  first  part  of  this  assertion,  there  was 
no  room  to  doubt  Miss  Nancy's  piety.  She  could 
get  happy  in  class-meeting  (for  who  had  a  better 
right  ?),  and  could  witness  a  good  experience  in  the 
quarterly  love-feast.  But  it  is  not  upon  these 
grounds  that  I  base  my  opinion  of  Miss  Nancy. 
Do  not  even  the  Pharisees  the  same  ?  She  never 
dreamed  that  she  had  any  right  to  speak  of  "  Chris 
tian  Perfection  "  (which,  as  Mrs.  Partington  said  of 
total  depravity,  is  an  excellent  doctrme  if  it  is  lived 

2X2 


THE   GOOD   SAMARITAN.  213 

up  to) ;  but  when  a  woman's  heart  is  full  of  devout 
affections  and  good  purposes,  when  her  head  devises 
liberal  and  Christlike  things,  when  her  hands  are 
always  open  to  the  poor  and  always  busy  with  acts 
of  love  and  self-denial,  and  when  her  feet  are  ever 
eager  to  run  upon  errands  of  mercy,  why,  if  there 
be  anything  worthy  of  being  called  Christian  Per 
fection  in  this  world  of  imperfection,  I  do  not  know 
why  such  an  one  does  not  possess  it.  What  need 
of  analyzing  her  experiences  in  vacua  to  find  out  the 
state  of  her  soul  ? 

How  Miss  Nancy  managed  to  live  on  her  slender 
income  and  be  so  generous  was  a  perpetual  source 
of  perplexity  to  the  gossips  of  Lewisburg.  And 
now  that  she  declared  that  Mrs.  Thomson  and 
Shocky  should  not  return  to  the  poor-house  there 
was  a  general  outcry  from  the  whole  Committee  of 
Intermeddlers  that  she  would  bring  herself  to  the 
poor-house  before  she  died.  But  Nancy  Sawyer 
was  the  richest  woman  in  Lewisburg,  though  no 
body  knew  it,  and  though  she  herself  did  not  once 
suspect  it. 

How  Miss  Nancy  and  the  preacher  conspired  to 
gether,  and  how  they  managed  to  bring  Mrs.  Thom 
son's  case  up  at  the  time  of  the  "  Sacramental  Ser 
vice  "  in  the  afternoon  of  that  Sunday  in  Lewisburg, 
and  how  the  preacher  made  a  touching  statement 


214  THE   HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

of  it  just  before  the  regular  "  Collection  for  the 
Poor "  was  taken,  and  how  the  warm-hearted 
Methodists  put  in  dollars  instead  of  dimes  while  the 
Presiding  Elder  read  those  passages  about  Zaccheus 
and  other  liberal  people,  and  how  the  congregation 
sang 

"  He  dies,  the  Friend  of  sinners  dies  " 

more  lustily  than  ever,  after  having  performed  this 
Christian  act — how  all  this  happened  I  can  not  take 
up  the  reader's  time  to  tell.  But  I  can  assure  him 
that  the  nearly  blind  English  woman  did  not  room 
with  blasphemous  old  Mowley  any  more,  and  that 
the  blue-drilling  pauper  frock  gave  way  to  some 
thing  better,  and  that  grave  little  Shocky  even 
danced  with  delight,  and  declared  that  God  hadn't 
forgot,  though  he'd  thought  that  He  had.  And 
Mrs.  Matilda  White  remarked  that  it  was  a  shame 
that  the  collection  for  the  poor  at  a  Methodist  sac 
ramental  service  should  be  given  to  a  woman  who 
was  a  member  of  the  Church  of  England,  and  like 
as  not  never  soundly  converted! 

And  Shocky  slept  in  his  mother's  arms  and  prayed 
God  not  to  forget  Hannah,  while  Shocky's  mother 
knit  stockings  for  the  store  day  and  night,  and  day 
and  night  she  prayed  and  hoped. 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

BUD  WOOING. 

THE  Sunday  that  Ralph  spent  in  Lewisburg,  the 
Sunday  that  Shocky  spent  in  an  earthly  paradise, 
the  Sunday  that  Mrs.  Thomson  spent  with  Shocky 
instead  of  old  Mowley,  the  Sunday  that  Miss  Nancy 
thought  was  "just  like  heaven,"  was  also  an  event 
ful  Sunday  with  Bud  Means.  He  had  long  adored 
Miss  Martha  in  his  secret  heart,  but,  like  many  other 
giants,  while  brave  enough  to  face  and  fight  drag 
ons,  he  was  a  coward  in  the  presence  of  the  woman 
that  he  loved.  Let  us  honor  him  for  it.  The  man 
who  loves  a  woman  truly,  reverences  her  profoundly 
and  feels  abashed  in  her  presence.  The  man  who 
is  never  abashed  in  the  presence  of  womanhood,  the 
man  who  tells  his  love  without  a  tremor,  is  a 
shallow  egotist.  Bud's  nature  was  not  fine.  But 
it  was  deep,  true,  and  manly.  To  him  Martha 
Hawkins  was  the  chief  of  women.  What  was  he 
that  he  should  aspire  to  possess  her?  And  yet  on 
that  Sunday,  with  his  crippled  arm  carefully  bound 

up,  with  his  cleanest  shirt,  and  with  his  heavy  boots 

215 


2l6  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

freshly  oiled  with  the  fat  of  the  raccoon,  he  started 
hopefully  through  fields  white  with  snow  to  the 
house  of  Squire  Hawkins.  When  he  started  his 
spirits  were  high,  but  they  descended  exactly  in 
proportion  to  his  proximity  to  the  object  of  his 
love.  He  thought  himself  not  dressed  well  enough. 
He  wished  his  shoulders  were  not  so  square,  and 
his  arms  not  so  stout.  He  wished  that  he  had  book- 
larnin'  enough  to  court  in  nice,  big  words.  And 
so,  by  recounting  his  own  deficiencies,  he  succeeded 
in  making  himself  feel  weak,  and  awkward,  and 
generally  good-for-nothing,  by  the  time  he  walked 
up  between  the  rows  of  dead  hollyhocks  to  the 
Squire's  front  door,  to  tap  at  which  took  all  his  re 
maining  strength. 

Miss  Martha  received  her  perspiring  lover  most 
graciously,  but  this  only  convinced  Bud  more  than 
ever  that  she  was  a  superior  being.  If  she  had 
slighted  him  a  bit,  so  as  to  awaken  his  combative- 
ness,  his  bashfulness  might  have  disappeared. 

It  was  in  vain  that  Martha  inquired  about  his 
arm  and  complimented  his  courage.  Bud  could 
only  think  of  his  big  feet,  his  clumsy  hands,  and  his 
slow  tongue.  He  answered  in  monosyllables,  using 
his  red  silk  handkerchief  diligently. 

"  Is  your  arm  improving  ?  "  asked  Miss  Hawkins. 

"  Yes,  I  think  it  is,"  said  Bud,  hastily  crossing  his 


BUD   WOOING.  217 

right  leg  over  his  left,  and  trying  to  get  his  fists  out 
of  sight. 

"  Have  you  heard  from  Mr.  Pearson  ?  " 

"  No,  I  ha'n't,"  answered  Bud,  removing  his  right 
foot  to  the  floor  again,  because  it  looked  so  big,  and 
trying  to  push  his  left  hand  into  his  pocket. 

"  Beautiful  sunshine,  isn't  it  ?  "  said  Martha. 

"  Yes,  'tis,"  answered  Bud,  sticking  his  right  foot 
up  on  the  rung  of  the  chair  and  putting  his  right 
hand  behind  him. 

"  This  snow  looks  like  the  snow  we  have  at  the 
East,"  said  Martha.  "  It  snowed  that  way  the  time 
I  was  to  Bosting." 

"  Did  it  ?  "  said  Bud,  not  thinking  of  the  snow  at 
all  nor  of  Boston,  but  thinking  how  much  better  he 
would  have  appeared  had  he  left  his  arms  and  legs 
at  home. 

"  I  suppose  Mr.  Hartsook  rode  your  horse  to 
Lewisburg  ?  " 

"  Yes,  he  did ; "  and  Bud  hung  both  hands  at  his 
side. 

"  You  were  very  kind." 

This  set  Bud's  heart  a-going  so  that  he  could  not 
say  anything,  but  he  looked  eloquently  at  Miss 
Hawkins,  drew  both  feet  under  the  chair,  and 
rammed  his  hands  into  his  pockets.  Then,  sud 
denly  remembering  how  awkward  he  must  look,  he 


2l8  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

immediately  pulled  his  hands  out  again,  and  crossed 
his  legs.  There  was  a  silence  of  a  few  minutes, 
during  which  Bud  made  up  his  mind  to  do  the  most 
desperate  thing  he  could  think  of — to  declare  his 
love  and  take  the  consequences. 

"  You  see,  Miss  Hawkins,"  he  began,  forgetting 
boots  and  fists  in  his  agony,  "  I  thought  as  how  I'd 
come  over  here  to-day,  and  "—but  here  his  heart 
failed  him  utterly — "and — see — you." 

"  I'm  glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Means." 

"  And  I  thought  I'd  tell  you  " — Martha  was  sure 
it  was  coming  now,  for  Bud  was  in  dead  earnest — 
"and  I  thought  I'd  just  like  to  tell  you,  ef  I  only 
know'd  jest  how  to  tell  it  right " — here  Bud  got 
frightened,  and  did  not  dare  close  the  sentence  as 
he  had  intended — "  I  thought  as  how  you  might  like 
to  know — or  ruther  I  wanted  to  tell  you — that — the 
—that  I— that  we—all  of  us— think— that— I— that 
we  are  going  to  have  a  spellin'-school  a  Chewsday 
night." 

"  I'm  real  glad  to  hear  it,"  said  the  bland  but  dis 
appointed  Martha.  "  We  used  to  have  spelling- 
schools  at  the  East."  But  Miss  Martha  could  not 
remember  that  they  had  them  "  to  Bosting." 

Hard  as  it  is  for  a  bashful  man  to  talk,  it  is  still 
more  difficult  for  him  to  close  the  conversation. 
Most  men  like  to  leave  a  favorable  impression,  and 


BUD   WOOING.  219 

a  bashful  man  is  always  waiting  with  the  forlorn 
hope  that  some  favorable  turn  in  the  talk  may  let 
him  out  without  absolute  discomfiture.  And  so 
Bud  stayed  a  long  time,  and  how  he  ever  did  get 
away  he  never  could  tell. 


CHAPTER   XXVI. 
A  LETTER  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES. 

"SQUAR  HAUKINS 

"this  is  too  Lett  u  no  that  u  beter  be 
Keerful  hoo  yoo  an  yore  familly  tacks  cides  with 
fer  peepl  wont  Stan  it  too  hev  the  Men  wat's 
sportin  the  wuns  wat's  robin  us,  sported  bi  yor 
Fokes  kepin  kumpne  with  'em,  u  been  a  ossifer  ov 
the  Lau,  yor  Ha  wil  bern  as  qick  as  to  an  yor  Barn 
tu.  so  Tak  kere.  No  mor  ad  pressnt." 

This  letter  accomplished  its  purpose.  The  Squire's 
spectacles  slipped  off  several  times  while  he  read  it. 
His  wig  had  to  be  adjusted.  If  he  had  been  threat 
ened  personally  he  would  not  have  minded  it  so 
much.  But  the  hay-stacks  were  dearer  to  him  than 
the  apple  of  his  glass  eye.  The  barn  was  more 
precious  than  his  wig.  And  those  who  hoped  to 
touch  Bud  in  a  tender  place  through  this  letter 
knew  the  Squire's  weakness  far  better  than  they 
knew  the  spelling-book.  To  see  his  new  red  barn 
with  its  large  "  Mormon  "  hay-press  inside,  and  the 


A  LETTER  AND  ITS  CONSEQUENCES.  221 

mounted  Indian  on  the  vane,  consumed,  was  too 
much  for  the  Hawkins  heart  to  stand.  Evidently 
the  danger  was  on  the  side  of  his  niece.  But  how 
should  he  influence  Martha  to  give  up  Bud  ?  Martha 
did  not  value  the  hay-stacks  half  so  highly  as  she 
did  her  lover.  Martha  did  not  think  the  new  red 
barn,  with  the  great  Mormon  press  inside  and  the 
galloping  Indian  on  the  vane,  worth  half  so  much 
as  a  moral  principle  or  a  kind-hearted  action. 
Martha,  bless  her!  would  have  sacrificed  anything 
rather  than  forsake  the  poor.  But  Squire  Haw 
kins's  lips  shut  tight  over  his  false  teeth  in  a  way 
that  suggested  astringent  purse-strings,  and  Squire 
Hawkins  could  not  sleep  at  night  if  the  new  red 
barn,  with  the  galloping  Indian  on  the  vane,  were 
in  danger.  Martha  must  be  reached  somehow. 

So,  with  many  adjustings  of  that  most  adjustable 
wig,  with  many  turnings  of  that  reversible  glass  eye, 
the  Squire  managed  to  frighten  Martha  by  the  inti 
mation  that  he  had  been  threatened,  and  to  make 
her  understand,  what  it  cost  her  much  to  under 
stand,  that  she  must  turn  the  cold  shoulder  to 
chivalrous,  awkward  Bud,  whom  she  loved  most 
tenderly,  partly,  perhaps,  because  he  did  not  re 
mind  her  of  anybody  she  had  ever  known  at  the 
East. 

Tuesday  evening  was  the  fatal  time.     Spelling- 


222  THE   HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

school  was  the  fatal  occasion.  Bud  was  the  victim. 
Pete  Jones  had  his  revenge.  For  Bud  had  been  all 
the  evening  trying  to  muster  courage  enough  to 
offer  himself  as  Martha's  escort.  He  was  not  en 
couraged  by  the  fact  that  he  had  spelled  even  worse 
than  usual,  while  Martha  had  distinguished  herself 
by  holding  her  ground  against  Jeems  Phillips  for 
half  an  hour.  But  he  screwed  his  courage  to  the 
sticking  place,  not  by  quoting  to  himself  the  adage, 
"  Faint  heart  never  won  fair  lady,"  which,  indeed, 
he  had  never  heard,  but  by  reminding  himself  that 
"ef  you  don't  resk  nothin'  you'll  never  git  nothin'." 
So,  when  the  spelling-school  had  adjourned,  he 
sidled  up  to  her,  and,  looking  dreadfully  solemn  and 
a  little  foolish,  he  said : 

"  Kin  I  see  you  safe  home  ?  " 

And  she,  with  a  feeling  that  her  uncle's  life  was 
in  danger,  and  that  his  salvation  depended  upon 
her  resolution — she,  with  a  feeling  that  she  was 
pronouncing  sentence  of  death  on  her  own  great 
hope,  answered  huskily: 

"  No,  I  thank  you." 

If  she  had  only  known  that  it  was  the  red  barn 
with  the  Indian  on  top  that  was  in  danger,  she 
would  probably  have  let  the  galloping  brave  take 
care  of  himself. 

It  seemed  to  Bud,  as  he  walked  home  mortified, 


A   LETTER  AND   ITS   CONSEQUENCES.  223 

disgraced,  disappointed,  hopeless,  that  all  the  world 
had  gone  down  in  a  whirlpool  of  despair. 

"  Might  a  knowed  it,"  he  said  to  himself.  "  Of 
course,  a  smart  gal  like  Martha  a'n't  agoin'  to  take 
a  big,  blunderin'  fool  that  can't  spell  in  two  sylla 
bles.  What's  the  use  of  tryin'  ?  A  Flat  Cricker  is 
a  Flat  Cricker.  You  can't  make  nothin'  else  ou* 
of  him,  no  more  nor  you  can  make  a  Chiny  hog  into 
a  Berkshire." 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

A    LOSS    AND    A    GAIN. 

DR.  SMALL,  silent,  attentive,  assiduous  Dr.  Small, 
set  himself  to  work  to  bind  up  the  wounded  heart 
of  Bud  Means,  even  as  he  had  bound  up  his  broken 
arm.  The  flattery  of  his  fine  eyes,  which  looked  at 
Bud's  muscles  so  admiringly,  which  gave  attention 
to  his  lightest  remark,  was  not  lost  on  the  young 
Flat  Creek  Hercules.  Outwardly  at  least  Pete 
Jones  showed  no  inclination  to  revenge  himself  on 
Bud.  Was  it  respect  for  muscle,  or  was  it  the  in 
fluence  of  Small  ?  At  any  rate,  the  concentrated 
extract  of  the  resentment  of  Pete  Jones  and  his 
clique  was  now  ready  to  empty  itself  upon  the  head 
of  Hartsook.  And  Ralph  found  himself  in  his  dire 
extremity  without  even  the  support  of  Bud,  whose 
good  resolutions  seemed  to  give  way  all  at  once. 
There  have  been  many  men  of  culture  and  more 
favorable  surroundings  who  have  thrown  themselves 
away  with  less  provocation.  As  it  was,  Bud  quit 
school,  avoided  Ralph,  and  seemed  more  than  ever 
under  the  influence  of  Dr.  Small,  besides  becoming 


A  LOSS  AND  A  GAIN.  22$ 

the  intimate  of  Walter  Johnson,  Small's  student  and 
Mrs.  Matilda  White's  son.  They  made  a  strange 
pair — Bud  with  his  firm  jaw  and  silent,  cautious 
manner,  and  Walter  Johnson  with  his  weak  chin, 
his  nice  neck-ties,  and  general  dandy  appearance. 

To  be  thus  deserted  in  his  darkest  hour  by  his 
only  friend  was  the  bitterest  ingredient  in  Ralph's 
cup.  In  vain  he  sought  an  interview.  Bud  always 
eluded  him.  While  by  all  the  faces  about  him 
Ralph  learned  that  the  storm  was  getting  nearer 
and  nearer  to  himself.  It  might  delay.  If  it  had 
been  Pete  Jones  alone,  it  might  blow  over.  But 
Ralph  felt  sure  that  the  relentless  hand  of  Dr. 
Small  was  present  in  all  his  troubles.  And  he  had 
only  to  look  into  Small's  eye  to  know  how  inex 
tinguishable  was  a  malignity  that  burned  so  steadily 
and  so  quietly. 

But  there  is  no  cup  of  unmixed  bitterness.  With 
an  innocent  man  there  is  no  night  so  dark  that 
some  star  does  not  shine.  Ralph  had  one  strong 
sheet-anchor.  On  his  return  from  Lewisburg  on 
Monday  Bud  had  handed  him  a  note,  written  on 
common  blue  foolscap,  in  round,  old-fashioned 
nand.  It  ran : 

"  Dear   Sir :     Anybody  who   can   do  so  good  a 
thing  as  you  did  for  our  Shocky,  can  not  be  bad.     I 
15 


226  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

hope  you  will  forgive  me.  All  the  appearances  in 
the  world,  and  all  that  anybody  says,  can  not  make 
me  think  you  anything  else  but  a  good  man.  I 
hope  God  will  reward  you.  You  must  not  answer 
this,  and  you  hadn't  better  see  me  again,  or  think 
any  more  of  what  you  spoke  about  the  other  night. 
I  shall  be  a  slave  for  three  years  more,  and  then  I 
must  work  for  my  mother  and  Shocky ;  but  I  felt 
so  bad  to  think  that  I  had  spoken  so  hard  to  you, 
that  I  could  not  help  writing  this.  Respectfully, 

"  HANNAH  THOMSON. 
"  To  MR.  R.  HARTSOOK,  ESQ." 

Ralph  read  it  over  and  over.  What  else  he  did 
with  it  I  shall  not  tell.  You  want  to  know  whether 
he  kissed  it,  and  put  it  into  his  bosom.  Many  a  man 
as  intelligent  and  manly  as  Hartsook  has  done  quite 
as  foolish  a  thing  as  that.  You  have  been  a  little 
silly  perhaps — if  it  is  silly — and  you  have  acted  in 
a  sentimental  sort  of  a  way  over  such  things.  But 
it  would  never  do  for  me  to  tell  you  what  Ralph  did. 
Whether  he  put  the  letter  into  his  bosom  or  not, 
he  put  the  words  into  his  heart,  and,  metaphorically 
speaking,  he  shook  that  little  blue  billet,  written  on 
coarse  foolscap  paper — he  shook  that  little  letter, 
full  of  confidence,  in  the  face  and  eyes  of  all  the 
calamities  that  haunted  him.  If  Hannah  believed 


A   LOSS   AND   A  GAIN.  22/ 

in  him,  the  whole  world  might  distrust  him.  When 
Hannah  was  in  one  scale  and  the  whole  world  in 
the  other,  of  what  account  was  the  world?  Justice 
may  be  blind,  but  all  the  pictures  of  blind  cupids 
in  the  world  can  not  make  Love  blind.  And  it  was 
well  that  Ralph  weighed  things  in  this  way.  For 
the  time  was  come  in  which  he  needed  all  the  cour 
age  the  blue  billet  could  give  him. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

THE   FLIGHT. 

ABOUT  ten  days  after  Ralph's  return  to  Flat 
Creek  things  came  to  a  crisis. 

The  master  was  rather  relieved  at  first  to  have 
the  crisis  come.  He  had  been  holding  juvenile 
Flat  Creek  under  his  feet  by  sheer  force  of  will. 
And  such  an  exercise  of  "  psychic  power  "  is  very 
exhausting.  In  racing  on  the  Ohio  the  engineer 
sometimes  sends  the  largest  of  the  firemen  to  hold 
the  safety-valve  down,  and  this  he  does  by  hanging 
himself  to  the  lever  by  his  hands.  Ralph  felt  that 
he  had  been  holding  the  safety-valve  down,  and 
that  he  was  so  weary  of  the  operation  that  an  ex 
plosion  would  be  a  real  relief.  He  was  a  little  tired 
of  having  everybody  look  on  him  as  a  thief.  It  was 
a  little  irksome  to  know  that  new  bolts  were  put  on 
the  doors  of  the  houses  in  which  he  had  staid.  And 
now  that  Shocky  was  gone,  and  Bud  had  turned 
against  him,  and  Aunt  Matilda  suspected  him,  and 
even  poor,  weak,  exquisite  Walter  Johnson  would 
not  associate  with  him,  he  felt  himself  an  outlaw 
indeed.  He  would  have  gone  away  to  Texas  or  the 


THE  FLIGHT.  229 

new  gold  fields  in  California  had  it  not  been  for  one 
thing.  That  letter  on  blue  foolscap  paper  kept  a 
little  warmth  in  his  heart. 

His  course  from  school  on  the  evening  that  some 
thing  happened  lay  through  the  sugar-camp. 
Among  the  dark  trunks  of  the  maples,  solemn  aim 
lofty  pillars,  he  debated  the  case.  To  stay,  or  to 
flee  ?  The  worn  nerves  could  not  keep  their  present 
tension  much  longer. 

It  was  just  by  the  brook,  or,  as  they  say  in  In 
diana,  the  "branch,"1  that  something  happened 
which  brought  him  to  a  sudden  decision.  Ralph 
never  afterward  could  forget  that  brook.  It  was  a 
swift-running  little  stream,  that  did  not  babble 
blatantly  over  the  stones.  It  ran  through  a  thicket 
of  willows,  through  the  sugar-camp,  and  out  into 
Means's  pasture.  Ralph  had  just  passed  through 
the  thicket,  had  just  crossed  the  brook  on  the  half- 

1  I  have  already  mentioned  the  absence  of  pail  and  pare  from  the 
ancient  Hoosier  folk-speech.  Brook  is  likewise  absent.  The  illiter 
ate  Indiana  countryman  before  the  Civil  War,  let  us  say,  had  no  pails, 
pared  no  apples,  husked  no  corn,  crossed  no  brooks.  The  same  is 
true,  I  believe,  of  the  South  generally.  As  the  first  settlers  on  the 
Southern  coast  entered  the  land  by  the  rivers,  each  smaller  stream 
was  regarded  as  a  branch  of  the  larger  one.  A  small  stream  was 
therefore  called  a  branch.  The  word  brook  was  probably  lost  in  the 
first  generation.  But  a  small  stream  is  often  called  a  run  in  the 
Middle  and  Southern  belt.  Halliwell  gives  rundel  as  nsed  with  the 
same  signification  in  England,  and  he  gives  ryn  in  the  same  sense 
from  an  old  manuscript. 


230  THE  HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

decayed  log  that  spanned  it,  when,  as  he  emerged 
from  the  water-willows  on  the  other  side,  he  started 
with  a  sudden  shock.  For  there  was  Hannah,  with 
a  white,  white  face,  holding  out  a  little  note  folded 
like  an  old-fashioned  thumb-paper. 

"Go  quick!"  she  stammered  as  she  slipped  it. 
into  Ralph's  hand,  inadvertently  touching  his  fin 
gers  with  her  own — a  touch  that  went  tingling 
through  the  school-master's  nerves.  But  she  had 
hardly  said  the  words  until  she  was  gone  down  the 
brookside  path  and  over  into  the  pasture.  A  few 
minutes  afterward  she  drove  the  cows  up  into  the 
lot  and  meekly  took  her  scolding  from  Mrs.  Means 
for  being  gone  sech  an  awful  long  time,  like  a  lazy, 
good-fer-nothin'  piece  of  goods  that  she  was. 

Ralph  opened  the  thumb-paper  note,  written  on 
a  page  torn  from  an  old  copy-book,  in  Bud's  "  hand- 
write  "  and  running: 

"  Mr.  Heartsook 

"deer  Sur: 

"  i  Put  in  my  best  licks,  taint  no  use.  Run  fer 
yore  life.  A  plans  on  foot  to  tar  an  fether  or  wuss 
to-night.  Go  rite  off.  Things  is  awful  juberous.1 

"  BUD." 

*  IuJ>erous  is  in  none  of  the  vocabularies  that  I  have  seen.  I  once 
treated  this  word  in  print  as  an  undoubted  corruption  of  dubious,  and 
when  used  subjectively  it  apparently  feels  the  influence  of  dubious,  as 


THE   FLIGHT.  231 

The  first  question  with  Ralph  was  whether  he 
could  depend  on  Bud.  But  he  soon  made  up  his 
mind  that  treachery  of  any  sort  was  not  one  of  his 
traits.  He  had  mourned  over  the  destruction  of 
Bud's  good  resolutions  by  Martha  Hawkins's  refu 
sal,  and  being  a  disinterested  party  he  could  have 
comforted  Bud  by  explaining  Martha's  "  mitten." 
But  he  felt  sure  that  Bud  was  not  treacherous.  It 
was  a  relief,  then,  as  he  stood  there  to  know  that 
the  false  truce  was  over,  and  worst  had  come  to 
worst. 

His  first  impulse  was  to  stay  and  fight.  But  his 
nerves  were  not  strong  enough  to  execute  so  fool 
hardy  a  resolution.  He  seemed  to  see  a  man  be 
hind  every  maple-trunk.  Darkness  was  fast  coming 
on,  and  he  knew  that  his  absence  from  supper  at  his 
boarding-place  could  not  fail  to  excite  suspicion. 
There  was  no  time  to  be  lost.  So  he  started. 

Once  run  from  a  danger,  and  panic  is  apt  to  en 
sue.  The  forest,  the  stalk-fields,  the  dark  hollows 
through  which  he  passed,  seemed  to  be  peopled 
with  terrors.  He  knew  Small  and  Jones  well 

where  one  says  :  "I  feel  mighty  juberous  about  it."  But  it  is  much 
oftener  applied  as  in  the  text  to  the  object  of  fear,  as  "  The  bridge 
looks  kind  o*  juberous."  Halliwell  gives  the  verb  juberd  and  defines 
it  as  "  to  jeopard  or  endanger."  It  is  clearly 'a  dialect  form  of  jeop 
ard,  and  I  make  no  doubt  that  juberous  is  a  dialect  variation  of 
jeopardous,  occasionally  used  as  a  form  of  dubious. 


232  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

enough  to  know  that  every  avenue  of  escape  would 
be  carefully  picketed.  So  there  was  nothing  to  do 
but  to  take  the  shortest  path  to  the  old  trysting 
place,  the  Spring-in-rock. 

Here  he  sat  and  shook  with  terror.  Angry  with 
himself,  he  inly  denounced  himself  for  a  coward. 
But  the  effect  was  really  a  physical  one.  The  chill 
and  panic  now  were  the  reaction  from  the  previous 
strain. 

For  when  the  sound  of  his  pursuers'  voices  broke 
upon  his  ears  early  in  the  evening,  Ralph  shook  no 
more ;  the  warm  blood  set  back  again  toward  the 
extremities,  and  his  self-control  returned  when  he 
needed  it.  He  gathered  some  stones  about  him, 
as  the  only  weapons  of  defense  at  hand.  The  mob 
was  on  the  cliff  above.  But  he  thought  that  he 
heard  footsteps  in  the  bed  of  the  creek  below.  If 
this  were  so,  there  could  be  no  doubt  that  his  hid- 
ing-place  was  suspected. 

"O  Hank!"  shouted  Bud  from  the  top  of  the 
cliff  to  some  one  in  the  creek  below,  "  be  sure  to 
look  at  the  Spring-in-rock — I  think  he's  there." 

This  hint  was  not  lost  on  Ralph,  who  speedily 
changed  his  quarters  by  climbing  up  to  a  secluded, 
shelf-like  ledge  above  the  spring.  He  was  none  too 
soon,  for  Pete  Jones  and  Hank  Banta  were  soon 
looking  all  around  the  spring  for  him,  while  he  held 


THE   FLIGHT.  233 

a  twenty-pound  stone  over  their  heads  ready  to 
drop  upon  them  in  case  they  should  think  of  looking 
on  the  ledge  above. 

When  the  crowd  were  gone  Ralph  knew  that  one 
road  was  open  to  him.  He  could  follow  down  the 
creek  to  Clifty,  and  thence  he  might  escape.  But, 
traveling  down  to  Clifty,  he  debated  whether  it  was 
best  to  escape.  To  flee  was  to  confess  his  guilt,  to 
make  himself  an  outlaw,  to  put  an  insurmountable 
barrier  between  himself  and  Hannah,  whose  terror- 
stricken  and  anxious  face  as  she  stood  by  the  brook- 
willows  haunted  him  now,  and  was  an  involuntary 
witness  to  her  love. 

Long  before  he  reached  Clifty  his  mind  was  made 
up  not  to  flee  another  mile.  He  knocked  at  the 
door  of  Squire  Underwood.  But  Squire  Under 
wood  was  also  a  doctor,  and  had  been  called  away. 
He  knocked  at  the  door  of  Squire  Doolittle.  But 
Squire  Doolittle  had  gone  to  Lewisburg.  He  was 
about  to  give  up  all  hope  of  being  able  to  surrender 
himself  to  the  law  when  he  met  Squire  Hawkins, 
who  had  come  over  to  Clifty  to  avoid  responsibility 
for  the  ill-deeds  of  his  neighbors  which  he  was  pow 
erless  to  prevent. 

"  Is  that  you,  Mr.  Hartsook  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  I  want  you  to  arrest  me  and  try  me 
here  in  Clifty." 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

THE    TRIAL. 

THE  "  prosecuting  attorney  "  (for  so  the  State's 
attorney  is  called  in  Indiana)  had  been  sent  for  the 
night  before.  Ralph  refused  all  legal  help.  It  was 
not  wise  to  reject  counsel,  but  all  his  blood  was  up, 
and  he  declared  that  he  would  not  be  cleared  by 
legal  quibbles.  If  his  innocence  were  not  made 
evident  to  everybody,  he  would  rather  not  be  ac 
quitted  on  a  preliminary  examination.  He  would 
go  over  to  the  circuit  court  and  have  the  matter 
sifted  to  the  bottom.  But  he  would  have  been 
pleased  had  his  uncle  offered  his  counsel,  though 
he  would  have  declined  it.  He  would  have  felt 
better  to  have  had  a  letter  from  home  somewhat 
different  from  the  one  he  received  from  his  Aunt 
Matilda  by  the  hand  of  the  prosecuting  attorney. 
It  was  not  very  encouraging  or  very  sympathetic, 
though  it  was  very  characteristic. 

"  Dear  Ralph : 

"  This  is  what  I  have  always  been  afraid  of.     I 

warned  you  faithfully  the  last  time  I  saw  you.  My 

234 


THE   TRIAL.  235 

skirts  are  clear  of  your  blood.  I  can  not  consent 
for  your  uncle  to  appear  as  your  counsel  or  to  go 
your  bail.  You  know  how  much  it  would  injure 
him  in  the  county,  and  he  has  no  right  to  suffer 
for  your  evil  acts.  O  my  dear  nephew!  for  the 
sake  of  your  poor,  dead  mother " 

We  never  shall  know  what  the  rest  of  that  letter 
was.  Whenever  Aunt  Matilda  got  to  Ralph's  poor, 
dead  mother  in  her  conversation  Ralph  ran  out  of 
the  house.  And  now  that  his  poor,  dead  mother 
was  again  made  to  do  service  in  his  aunt's  pious 
rhetoric,  he  landed  the  letter  on  the  hot  coals  be 
fore  him,  and  watched  it  vanish  into  smoke  with  a 
grim  satisfaction. 

Ralph  was  a  little  afraid  of  a  mob.  But  Clifty 
was  better  than  Flat  Creek,  and  Squire  Hawkins, 
with  all  his  faults,  loved  justice,  and  had  a  profound 
respect  for  the  majesty  of  the  law,  and  a  profound 
respect  for  his  own  majesty  when  sitting  as  a  court 
representing  the  law.  Whatever  maneuvers  he 
might  resort  to  in  business  affairs  in  order  to  avoid 
a  conflict  with  his  lawless  neighbors,  he  was  cour 
ageous  and  inflexible  on  the  bench.  The  Squire 
was  the  better  part  of  him.  With  the  co-operation 
of  the  constable,  he  had  organized  a  posse  of  men 
who  could  be  depended  on  to  enforce  the  law 
against  a  mob. 


236  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

By  the  time  the  trial  opened  in  the  large  school- 
house  in  Clifty  at  eleven  o'clock,  all  the  surround 
ing  country  had  emptied  its  population  into  Clifty, 
and  all  Flat  Creek  was  on  hand  ready  to  testify  to 
something.  Those  who  knew  the  least  appeared  to 
know  the  most,  and  were  prodigal  of  their  significant 
winks  and  nods.  Mrs.  Means  had  always  suspect 
ed  him.  She  seed  some  mighty  suspicious  things 
about  him  from  the  word  go.  She'd  allers  had  her 
doubts  whether  he  was  jist  the  thing,  and  ef  her  ole 
man  had  axed  her,  liker-n  not  he  never'd  a  been 
hired.  She'd  seed  things  with  her  own  livin'  eyes 
that  beat  all  she  ever  seed  in  all  her  born  days. 
And  Pete  Jones  said  he'd  allers  knowed  ther  warn't 
no  good  in  sech  a  feller.  Couldn't  stay  abed  when 
he  got  there.  And  Granny  Sanders  said,  Law's 
sakes !  nobody'd  ever  a  found  him  out  ef  it  hadn't 
been  fer  her.  Didn't  she  go  all  over  the  neighbor 
hood  a-warnin'  people  ?  Fer  her  part,  she  seed 
straight  through  that  piece  of  goods.  He  was  fond 
of  the  gals,  too !  Nothing  was  so  great  a  crime  in 
her  eyes  as  to  be  fond  of  the  gals. 

The  constable  paid  unwitting  tribute  to  William 
the  Conquerer  by  crying  Squire  Hawkins's  court 
open  with  an  Oyez !  or,  as  he  said,  "  O  yes !  "  and  the 
Squire  asked  Squire  Underwood,  who  came  in  at 
that  minute,  to  sit  with  him.  From  the  start,  it 


THE  TRIAL.  237 

was  evident  to  Ralph  that  the  prosecuting  attorney 
had  been  thoroughly  posted  by  Small,  though,  look 
ing  at  that  worthy's  face,  one  would  have  thought 
him  the  most  disinterested  and  philosophical  spec 
tator  in  the  court-room. 

Bronson,  the  prosecutor,  was  a  young  man,  and 
this  was  his  first  case  since  his  election.  He  was 
very  ambitious  to  distinguish  himself,  very  anxious 
to  have  Flat  Creek  influence  on  his  side  in  politics; 
and,  consequently,  he  was  very  determined  to  send 
Ralph  Hartsook  to  State  prison,  justly  or  unjustly, 
by  fair  means  or  foul.  To  his  professional  eyes 
this  was  not  a  question  of  right  and  wrong,  not  a 
question  of  life  or  death  to  such  a  man  as  Ralph. 
It  was  George  H.  Bronson's  opportunity  to  distin 
guish  himself.  And  so,  with  many  knowing  and 
confident  nods  and  hints,  and  with  much  deference 
to  the  two  squires,  he  opened  the  case,  affecting 
great  indignation  at  Ralph's  wickedness,  and  utter 
ing  Delphic  hints  about  striped  pants  and  shaven 
head,  and  the  grating  of  prison-doors  at  Jefferson- 
ville. 

"And,  now,  if  the  court  please,  I  am  about  to 
call  a  witness  whose  testimony  is  very  important 
indeed.  Mrs.  Sarah  Jane  Means  will  please  step 
forward  and  be  sworn." 

This  Mrs.  Means  did  with  alacrity.     She  had  met 


238  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

the  prosecutor,  and  impressed  him  with  her  dark 
hints.  She  was  sworn. 

"  Now,  Mrs.  Means,  have  the  goodness  to  tell  us 
what  you  know  of  the  robbery  at  the  house  of  Peter 
Schroeder,  and  the  part  defendant  had  in  it." 

"  Well,  you  see,  I  allers  suspected  that  air  young 
man " 

Here  Squire  Underwood  stopped  her,  and  told 
her  that  she  must  not  tell  her  suspicions,  but  facts. 

"Well,  it's  facts  I  am  a-going  to  tell,"  she  sniffed 
indignantly.  "  It's  facts  that  I  mean  to  tell."  Here 
her  voice  rose  to  a  keen  pitch,  and  she  began  to 
abuse  the  defendant.  Again  and  again  the  court 
insisted  that  she  must  tell  what  there  was  suspi 
cious  about  the  school-master.  At  last  she  got 
it  out. 

"  Well,  fer  one  thing,  what  kind  of  gals  did  he  go 
with  ?  Hey  ?  Why,  with  my  bound  gal,  Hanner, 
a-loafin'  along  through  the  blue-grass  paster  at  ten 
o'clock,  and  keepin'  that  gal  that's  got  no  protector 
but  me  out  that  a-way,  and  destroyin'  her  character 
by  his  company,  that  a'n't  fit  fer  nobody." 

Here  Bronson  saw  that  he  had  caught  a  tartar. 
He  said  he  had  no  more  questions  to  ask  of  Mrs. 
Means,  and  that,  unless  the  defendant  wished  to 
cross-question  her,  she  could  stand  aside.  Ralph 
said  he  would  like  to  ask  her  one  question. 


THE   TRIAL.  239 

"  Did  I  ever  go  with  your  daughter  Miranda  ?  " 

"  No,  you  didn't,"  answered  the  witness,  with  a 
tone  and  a  toss  of  the  head  that  let  the  cat  out,  and 
set  the  court-room  in  a  giggle.  Bronson  saw  that 
he  was  gaining  nothing,  and  now  resolved  to  follow 
the  line  which  Small  had  indicated. 

Pete  Jones  was  called,  and  swore  point-blank  that 
he  heard  Ralph  go  out  of  the  house  soon  after  he 
went  to  bed,  and  that  he  heard  him  return  at  two 
in  the  morning.  This  testimony  was  given  without 
hesitation,  and  made  a  great  impression  against 
Ralph  in  the  minds  of  the  justices.  Mrs.  Jones,  a 
poor,  brow-beaten  woman,  came  on  the  stand  in  a 
frightened  way,  and  swore  to  the  same  lies  as  her 
husband.  Ralph  cross-questioned  her,  but  her  part 
had  been  well  learned. 

There  seemed  now  little  hope  for  Ralph.  But 
just  at  this  moment  who  should  stride  into  the 
school-house  but  Pearson,  the  one-legged  old  soldier 
basket-maker  ?  He  had  crept  home  the  night  be 
fore,  "  to  see  ef  the  ole  woman  didn't  want  some- 
thin',''  and  hearing  of  Ralph's  arrest,  he  concluded 
that  the  time  for  him  to  make  "  a  forrard  move 
ment  "  had  come,  and  so  he  determined  to  face  the 
foe. 

"  Looky  here,  Squar,"  he  said,  wiping  the  perspi 
ration  from  his  brow.  •'  looky  here.  I  jes  want  to 


240  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

say  that  I  kin  tell  as  much  about  this  case  as  any 
body." 

"  Let  us  hear  it,  then,"  said  Bronson,  who  thought 
he  would  nail  Ralph  now  for  certain. 

So,  with  many  allusions  to  the  time  he  fit  at 
Lundy's  Lane,  and  some  indignant  remarks  about 
the  pack  of  thieves  that  driv  him  off,  and  a  passing 
tribute  to  Miss  Martha  Hawkins,  and  sundry  other 
digressions,  in  which  he  had  to  be  checked,  the  old 
man  told  how  he'd  drunk  whisky  at  Welch's  store 
that  night,  and  how  Welch's  whisky  was  all-fired 
mean,  and  how  it  allers  went  straight  to  his  head, 
and  how  he  had  got  a  leetle  too  much,  and  how  he 
had  felt  kyinder  gin  aout  by  the  time  he  got  to  the 
blacksmith's  shop,  and  how  he  had  laid  down  to  rest, 
and  how  as  he  s'posed  the  boys  had  crated  him, 
and  how  he  thought  it  war  all-fired  mean  to  crate 
a  old  soldier  what  fit  the  Britishers,  and  lost  his  leg 
by  one  of  the  blamed  critters  a-punchin'  his  bago- 
net x  through  it ;  and  how  when  he  woke  up  it  was 
all-fired  cold,  and  how  he  rolled  off  the  crate  and 

1  This  form,  bagonet,  is  not  in  the  vocabularies,  but  it  was  spoken 
as  I  have  written  it.  The  Century  Dictionary  gives  bagnet,  and  Hal- 
liwell  and  Wright  both  give  baginet  with  the  g  soft  apparently,  though 
neither  the  one  nor  the  other  is  very  explicit  in  distinguishing  tran 
scriptions  from  old  authors  from  phonetic  spellings  of  dialect  forms.  I 
fancy  that  this  bagonet  is  impossible  as  a  corruption  of  bayonet,  an«\ 
that  it  points  to  some  other  derivation  of  that  word  than  the  doubtful 
cxtua  from  Bavonne. 


THE   TRIAL.  24! 

went  on  \.owurds  home,  and  how  when  he  got  up  to 
the  top  of  Means's  hill  he  met  Pete  Jones  and  Bill 
Jones,  and  a  slim  sort  of  a  young  man,  a-ridin';  and 
how  he  know'd  the  Joneses  by  ther  hosses,  and 
some  more  things  of  that  kyind  about  'em ;  but  he 
didn't  know  the  slim  young  man,  tho'  he  tho't  he 
might  tell  him  ef  he  seed  him  agin,  kase  he  was 
dressed  up  so  slick  and  town-like.  But  blamed  ef 
he  didn't  think  it  hard  that  a  passel  of  thieves  sech 
as  the  Joneses  should  try  to  put  ther  mean  things 
on  to  a  man  like  the  master,  that  was  so  kyind  to 
him  and  to  Shocky,  tho',  fer  that  matter,  blamed 
ef  he  didn't  think  we  was  all  selfish,  akordin*  to  his 
tell.  Had  seed  somebody  that  night  a-crossin*  over 
the  blue-grass  paster.  Didn't  know  who  in  thunder 
'twas,  but  it  was  somebody  a-makin'  straight  fer 
Pete  Jones's.  Hadn't  seed  nobody  else,  'ceptin'  Dr. 
Small,  a  short  ways  behind  the  Joneses. 

Hannah  was  now  brought  on  the  stand.  She 
was  greatly  agitated,  and  answered  with  much  re 
luctance.  Lived  at  Mr.  Means's.  Was  eighteen 
years  of  age  in  October.  Had  been  bound  to  Mrs. 
Means  three  years  ago.  Had  walked  home  with 
Mr.  Hartsook  that  evening,  and,  happening  to  look 
out  of  the  window  toward  morning,  she  saw  some 
one  cross  the  pasture.  Did  not  know  who  it  was. 

Thought  it  was  Mr.  Hartsook.     Here  Mr.  Bronson 
16 


242  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL  MASTER. 

(evidently  prompted  by  a  suggestion  that  came 
from  what  Small  had  overheard  when  he  listened 
in  the  barn)  asked  her  if  Mr.  Hartsook  had  ever 
said  anything  to  her  about  the  matter  afterward. 
After  some  hesitation,  Hannah  said  that  he  had 
said  that  he  crossed  the  pasture.  Of  his  own  ac 
cord  ?  No,  she  spoke  of  it  first.  Had  Mr.  Hart 
sook  offered  any  explanations  ?  No,  he  hadn't 
Had  he  ever  paid  her  any  attention  afterward  ? 
No.  Ralph  declined  to  cross-question  Hannah. 
To  him  she  never  seemed  so  fair  as  when  telling  the 
truth  so  sublimely. 

Bronson  now  informed  the  court  that  this  little 
trick  of  having  the  old  soldier  happen  in,  in  the 
nick  of  time,  wouldn't  save  the  prisoner  at  the  bar 
from  the  just  punishment  which  an  outraged  law 
visited  upon  such  crimes  as  his.  He  regretted  that 
his  duty  as  a  public  prosecutor  caused  it  to  fall  to 
his  lot  to  marshal  the  evidence  that  was  to  blight 
the  prospects  and  blast  the  character,  and  annihi 
late  for  ever,  so  able  and  promising  a  young  man, 
but  that  the  law  knew  no  difference  between  the 
educated  and  the  uneducated,  and  that  for  his  part 
he  thought  Hartsook  a  most  dangerous  foe  to  the 
peace  of  society.  The  evidence  already  given  fas 
tened  suspicion  upon  him.  The  prisoner  had  not 
yet  been  able  to  break  its  force  at  all.  The  pris 


THE   TRIAL.  243 

oner  had  not  even  dared  to  try  to  explain  to  a 
young  lady  the  reason  for  his  being  out  at  night. 
He  would  now  conclude  by  giving  the  last  touch 
to  the  dark  evidence  that  would  sink  the  once 
fair  name  of  Ralph  Hartsook  in  a  hundred  fathoms 
of  infamy.  He  would  ask  that  Henry  Banta  be 
called. 

Hank  came  forward  sheepishly,  and  was  sworn. 
Lived  about  a  hundred  yards  from  the  house  that 
was  robbed.  He  seen  ole  man  Pearson  and  the 
master  and  one  other  feller  that  he  didn't  know 
come  away  from  there  together  about  one  o'clock. 
He  heerd  the  horses  kickin',  and  went  out  to  the 
stable  to  see  about  them.  He  seed  two  men  come 
out  of  Schroeder's  back  door  and  meet  one  man 
standing  at  the  gate.  When  they  got  closter  he 
knowed  Pearson  by  his  wooden  leg  and  the  master 
by  his  hat.  On  cross-examination  he  was  a  little 
confused  when  asked  why  he  hadn't  told  of  it  be 
fore,  but  said  that  he  was  afraid  to  say  much, 
bekase  the  folks  was  a-talkin'  about  hanging  the 
master,  and  he  didn't  want  no  lynchin'. 

The  prosecution  here  rested,  Bronson  maintain 
ing  that  there  was  enough  evidence  to  justify 
Ralph's  committal  to  await  trial.  But  the  court 
thought  that  as  the  defendant  had  no  counsel  and 
offered  no  rebutting  testimony,  it  would  be  only 


244  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

fair  to  hear  what  the  prisoner  had  to  say  in  his  own 
defense. 

All  this  while  poor  Ralph  was  looking  about  the 
room  for  Bud.  Bud's  actions  had  of  late  been 
strangely  contradictory.  But  had  he  turned  coward 
and  deserted  his  friend  ?  Why  else  did  he  avoid 
the  session  of  the  court  ?  After  asking  himself 
such  questions  as  these,  Ralph  would  wonder  at  his 
own  folly.  What  could  Bud  do  if  he  were  there  ? 
There  was  no  human  power  that  could  prevent  the 
victim  of  so  vile  a  conspiracy  as  this,  lodging  in 
that  worst  of  State  prisons  at  Jeffersonville,  a  place 
too  bad  for  criminals.  But  when  there  is  no  hu 
man  power  to  help,  how  naturally  does  the  human 
mind  look  for  some  divine  intervention  on  the  side 
of  Right!  And  Ralph's  faith  in  Providence  looked 
in  the  direction  of  Bud.  But  since  no  Bud  came, 
he  shut  down  the  valves  and  rose  to  his  feet, 
proudly,  defiantly,  fiercely  calm. 

"  It's  of  no  use  for  me  to  say  anything.  Peter 
Jones  has  sworn  to  a  deliberate  falsehood,  and  he 
knows  it.  He  has  made  his  wife  perjure  her  poor 
soul  that  she  dare  not  call  her  own."  Here  Pete's 
fists  clenched,  but  Ralph  in  his  present  humor  did 
not  care  for  mobs.  The  spirit  of  the  bulldog  had 
complete  possession  of  him.  "  It  is  of  no  use  for 
me  to  tell  you  that  Henry  Banta  has  sworn  to  a  lie, 


THE   TRIAL.  245 

partly  to  revenge  himself  on  me  for  punishments 
I  have  given  him,  and  partly,  perhaps,  for  money. 
The  real  thieves  are  in  this  court-room.  I  could 
put  my  finger  on  them." 

"  To  be  sure,"  responded  the  old  basket-maker. 
Ralph  looked  at  Pete  Jones,  then  at  Small.  The 
fiercely  calm  look  attracted  the  attention  of  the 
people.  He  knew  that  this  look  would  probably 
cost  him  his  life  before  the  next  morning.  But  he 
did  not  care  for  life.  "  The  testimony  of  Miss 
Hannah  Thomson  is  every  word  true.  I  believe 
that  of  Mr.  Pearson  to  be  true.  The  rest  is  false. 
But  I  can  not  prove  it.  I  know  the  men  I  have  to 
deal  with.  I  shall  not  escape  with  State  prison. 
They  will  not  spare  my  life.  But  the  people  of 
Clifty  will  one  day  find  out  who  are  the  thieves." 
Ralph  then  proceeded  to  tell  how  he  had  left  Pete 
Jones's,  Mr.  Jones's  bed  being  uncomfortable;  how 
he  had  walked  through  the  pasture;  how  he  had 
seen  three  men  on  horseback;  how  he  had  noticed 
the  sorrel  with  the  white  left  forefoot  and  white 
nose ;  how  he  had  seen  Dr.  Small ;  how,  after  his 
return,  he  had  heard  some  one  enter  the  house,  and 
how  he  had  recognized  the  horse  the  next  morn 
ing.  "  There,"  said  Ralph  desperately,  leveling  his 
finger  at  Pete,  "  there  is  a  man  who  will  yet  see  the 
inside  of  a  penitentiary  I  shall  not  live  to  see  it, 


246  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

but  the  rest  of  you  will."  Pete  quailed.  Ralph's 
speech  could  not  of  course  break  the  force  of  the 
testimony  against  him.  But  it  had  its  effect,  and  it 
had  effect  enough  to  alarm  Bronson,  who  rose  and 
said: 

"  I  should  like  to  ask  the  prisoner  at  the  bar  one 
question." 

"  Ask  me  a  dozen,"  said  Hartsook,  looking  more 
like  a  king  than  a  criminal. 

"Well,  then,  Mr.  Hartsook.  You  need  not 
answer  unless  you  choose ;  but  what  prompted  you 
to  take  the  direction  you  did  in  your  walk  on  that 
evening  ?  " 

This  shot  brought  Ralph  down.  To  answer  this 
question  truly  would  attach  to  friendless  Hannah 
Thomson  some  of  the  disgrace  that  now  belonged 
to  him. 

"  I  decline  to  answer,"  said  Ralph. 

"  Of  course,  I  do  not  want  the  prisoner  to  crim 
inate  himself,"  said  Bronson  significantly. 

During  this  last  passage  Bud  had  come  in,  but,  to 
Ralph's  disappointment  he  remained  near  the  door, 
talking  to  Walter  Johnson,  who  had  come  with 
him.  The  magistrates  put  their  heads  together  to 
fix  the  amount  of  bail,  and,  as  they  differed,  talked 
for  some  minutes.  Small  now  for  the  first  time 
thought  best  to  make  a  move  in  his  own  proper 


THE   TRIAL.  247 

person.  He  could  hardly  have  been  afraid  of 
Ralph's  acquittal.  He  may  have  been  a  little  anx 
ious  at  the  manner  in  which  he  had  been  mentioned, 
and  at  the  significant  look  of  Ralph,  and  he  proba 
bly  meant  to  excite  indignation  enough  against  the 
school-master  to  break  the  force  of  his  speech,  and 
secure  the  lynching  of  the  prisoner,  chiefly  by  peo 
ple  outside  his  gang.  He  rose  and  asked  the  court 
in  gentlest  tones  to  hear  him.  He  had  no  personal 
interest  in  this  trial,  except  his  interest  in  the  wel 
fare  of  his  old  schoolmate,  Mr.  Hartsook.  He  was 
grieved  and  disappointed  to  find  the  evidence 
against  him  so  damaging  and  he  would  not  for  the 
world  add  a  feather  to  it,  if  it  were  not  that  his 
own  name  had  been  twice  alluded  to  by  the  de 
fendant,  and  by  his  friend,  and  perhaps  his  confed 
erate,  John  Pearson.  He  was  prepared  to  swear 
that  he  was  not  over  in  Flat  Creek  the  night  of  the 
robbery  later  than  ten  o'clock,  and  while  the  state 
ments  of  the  two  persons  alluded  to,  whether  ma 
liciously  intended  or  not,  could  not  implicate  him 
at  all,  he  thought  perhaps  this  lack  of  veracity  in 
their  statements  might  be  of  weight  in  determining 
some  other  points.  He  therefore  suggested — he 
could  only  suggest,  as  he  was  not  a  party  to  the 
case  in  any  way  —  that  his  student,  Mr.  Walter 
Johnson,  be  called  to  testify  as  to  his — Dr.  Small's 


248  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

— exact  whereabouts  on  the  night  in  question. 
They  were  together  in  his  office  until  two,  when  he 
went  to  the  tavern  and  went  to  bed. 

Squire  Hawkins,  having  adjusted  his  teeth,  his 
wig,  and  his  glass  eye,  thanked  Dr.  Small  for  a  sug 
gestion  so  valuable,  and  thought  best  to  put  John 
Pearson  under  arrest  before  proceeding  further. 
Mr.  Pearson  was  therefore  arrested,  and  was  heard 
to  mutter  something  about  a  "  passel  of  thieves," 
when  the  court  warned  him  to  be  quiet. 

Walter  Johnson  was  then  called.  But  before  giv 
ing  his  testimony,  I  must  crave  the  reader's  patience 
while  I  go  back  to  some  things  which  happened 
nearly  a  week  before  and  which  will  serve  to  make 
it  intelligible. 


CHAPTER   XXX. 
"BROTHER  SODOM." 

IN  order  to  explain  Walter  Johnson's  testimony 
and  his  state  of  mind,  I  must  carry  the  reader  back 
nearly  a  week.  The  scene  was  Dr.  Small's  office. 
Bud  and  Walter  Johnson  had  been  having  some 
confidential  conversation  that  evening,  and  Bud 
had  got  more  out  of  his  companion  than  that  ex 
quisite  but  weak  young  man  had  intended.  He 
looked  round  in  a  frightened  way. 

"You  see,"  said  Walter,  "if  Small  knew  I  had 
told  you  that,  I'd  get  a  bullet  some  night  from 
somebody.  But  when  you're  initiated  it'll  be  all 
right.  Sometimes  I  wish  I  was  out  of  it.  But, 
you  know,  Small's  this  kind  of  a  man.  He  sees 
through  you.  He  can  look  through  a  door" — and 
there  he  shivered,  and  his  voice  broke  down  into  a 
whisper.  But  Bud  was  perfectly  cool,  and  doubt 
less  it  was  the  strong  coolness  of  Bud  that  made 
Walter,  who  shuddered  at  a  shadow,  come  to  him 
for  sympathy  and  unbosom  himself  of  one  of  his 
guilty  secrets. 

349 


THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL  MASTER. 

"  Let's  go  and  hear  Brother  Sodom  preach  to 
night,"  said  Bud. 

"  No,  I  don't  like  to." 

"  He  don't  scare  you  ?  "  There  was  just  a  touch 
of  ridicule  in  Bud's  voice.  He  knew  Walter,  and 
he  had  not  counted  amiss  when  he  used  this  little 
goad  to  prick  a  skin  so  sensitive.  "  Brother  Sodom  ' 
was  the  nickname  given  by  scoffers  to  the  preacher 
— Mr.  Soden — whose  manner  of  preaching  had  so 
aroused  Bud's  combativeness,  and  whose  saddle- 
stirrups  Bud  had  helped  to  amputate.  For  reasons 
of  his  own,  Bud  thought  best  to  subject  young 
Johnson  to  the  heat  of  Mr.  Soden's  furnace. 

Peter  Cartwright  boasts  that,  on  a  certain  occa 
sion,  he  "  shook  his  brimstone  wallet "  over  the 
people.  Mr.  Soden  could  never  preach  without 
his  brimstone  wallet.  There  are  those  of  refinement 
so  attenuated  that  they  will  not  admit  that  fear  can 
have  any  place  in  religion.  But  a  religion  without 
fear  could  never  have  evangelized  or  civilized  the 
West,  which  at  one  time  bade  fair  to  become  a 
perdition  as  bad  as  any  that  Brother  Sodom  ever 
depicted.  And  against  these  on  the  one  side,  and 
the  Brother  Sodoms  on  the  other,  I  shall  interrupt 
my  story  to  put  this  chapter  under  shelter  of  that 
wise  remark  of  the  great  Dr.  Adam  Clark,  who  says 
"  The  fear  of  God  is  the  beginning  of  wisdom,  the 


"BROTHER   SODOM."  2$ I 

terror  of  God  confounds  the  soul;  "  and  that  other 
saying  of  his :  "  With  the  fear  of  God  the  love  of 
God  is  ever  consistent ;  but  where  the  terror  of  the 
Lord  reigns,  there  can  neither  be  fear,  faith,  nor 
love  ;  nay,  nor  hope  either."  And  yet  I  am  not  sure 
that  even  the  Brother  Sodoms  were  made  in  vain. 

On  this  evening  Mr.  Soden  was  as  terrible  as 
usual.  Bud  heard  him  without  flinching.  Small, 
who  sat  farther  forward,  listened  with  pious  ap 
proval.  Mr.  Soden,  out  of  distorted  figures  pieced 
together  from  different  passages  of  Scripture, 
built  a  hell,  not  quite  Miltonic,  nor  yet  Dantean, 
but  as  Miltonic  and  Dantean  as  his  unrefined  imag 
ination  could  make  it.  As  he  rose  toward  his  cli 
max  of  hideous  description,  Walter  Johnson  trem 
bled  from  head  to  foot  and  sat  close  to  Bud.  Then, 
as  burly  Mr.  Soden,  with  great  gusto,  depicted 
materialistic  tortures  that  startled  the  nerves  of 
everybody  except  Bud,  Walter  wanted  to  leave, 
but  Bud  would  not  let  him.  For  some  reason  he 
wished  to  keep  his  companion  in  the  crucible  as 
long  as  possible. 

"  Young  man ! "  cried  Mr.  Soden,  and  the  explo 
sive  voice  seemed  to  come  from  the  hell  that  he  had 
created — "young  man!  you  who  have  followed  the 
counsel  of  evil  companions  " — here  he  paused  and 
looked  about,  as  if  trying  to  find  the  man  he  wanted, 


252  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

while  Walter  crept  up  close  to  Bud  and  shaded  his 
face — "  I  mean  you  who  have  chosen  evil  pursuits 
and  who  can  not  get  free  from  bad  habits  and  asso 
ciations  that  are  dragging  you  down  to  hell !  You 
are  standing  on  the  very  crumbling  brink  of  hell  to 
night.  The  smell  of  the  brimstone  is  on  your  gar 
ments;  the  hot  breath  of  hell  is  in  your  face!  The 
devils  are  waiting  for  you  !  Delay  and  you  are 
damned !  You  may  die  before  daylight !  You  may 
never  get  out  that  door!  The  awful  angel  of  death 
is  just  ready  to  strike  you  down !  "  Here  some 
shrieked  with  terror,  others  sobbed,  and  Brother 
Sodom  looked  with  approval  on  the  storm  he  had 
awakened.  The  very  harshness  of  his  tone,  his 
lofty  egotism  of  manner,  that  which  had  roused  all 
Bud's  combativeness,  shook  poor  Walter  as  a  wind 
would  shake  a  reed.  In  the  midst  of  the  general 
excitement  he  seized  his  hat  and  hastened  out  the 
door.  Bud  followed,  while  Soden  shot  his  light 
nings  after  them,  declaring  that  "  young  men  who 
ran  away  from  the  truth  would  dwell  in  torments 
forever." 

Bud  had  not  counted  amiss  when  he  thought 
that  Mr.  Soden's  preaching  would  be  likely  to 
arouse  so  mean-spirited  a  fellow  as  Walter.  So 
vivid  was  the  impression  that  Johnson  begged  Bud 
to  return  to  the  office  with  him.  He  felt  sick,  and 


"BROTHER   SODOM."  253 

was  afraid  that  he  should  die  before  morning.  He 
insisted  that  Bud  should  stay  with  him  all  night. 
To  this  Means  readily  consented,  and  by  morning 
he  had  heard  all  that  the  frightened  Walter  had  to 
tell. 

And  now  let  us  return  to  the  trial,  where  Ralph 
sits  waiting  the  testimony  of  Walter  Johnson,  which 
is  to  prove  his  statement  false. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 

THE    TRIAL  CONCLUDED. 

I  DO  not  know  how  much  interest  the  "  gentle 
reader  "  may  feel  in  Bud.  But  I  venture  to  hope 
that  there  are  some  Buddhists  among  my  readers 
who  will  wish  the  contradictoriness  of  his  actions 
explained.  The  first  dash  of  disappointment  had 
well-nigh  upset  him.  And  when  a  man  concludes 
to  throw  overboard  his  good  resolutions,  he  always 
seeks  to  avoid  the  witness  of  those  resolutions. 
Hence  Bud,  after  that  distressful  Tuesday  even 
ing  on  which  Miss  Martha  had  given  him  "the 
sack,"  wished  to  see  Ralph  less  than  any  one 
else.  And  yet  when  he  came  to  suspect  Small's 
villainy,  his  whole  nature  revolted  at  it.  But 
having  broken  with  Ralph,  he  thought  it  best  to 
maintain  an  attitude  of  apparent  hostility,  that 
he  might  act  as  a  detective,  and,  perhaps,  save  his 
friend  from  the  mischief  that  threatened  him.  As- 
soon  as  he  heard  of  Ralph's  arrest  he  determined 
to  make  Walter  Johnson  tell  his  own  secret  in 

court,  because  he  knew  that  it  would  be  best  for 

254 


THE   TRIAL   CONCLUDED.  255 

Ralph  that  Walter  should  tell  it.  Bud's  telling  at 
second-hand  would  not  be  conclusive.  And  he 
sincerely  desired  to  save  Walter  from  prison.  For 
Walter  Johnson  was  the  victim  of  Dr.  Small,  or  of 
Dr.  Small  and  such  novels  as  "  The  Pirate's  Bride," 
"  Claude  Duval,"  "  The  Wild  Rover  of  the  West 
Indies,"  and  the  cheap  biographies  of  such  men  as 
Murrell.  Small  found  him  with  his  imagination 
inflamed  by  the  history  of  such  heroes,  and  opened 
to  him  the  path  to  glory  for  which  he  longed. 

The  whole  morning  after  Ralph's  arrest  Bud  was 
working  on  Walter's  conscience  and  his  fears. 
The  poor  fellow,  unable  to  act  for  himself,  was  torn 
asunder  between  the  old  ascendency  of  Small  and 
the  new  ascendency  of  Bud  Means.  Bud  finally 
frightened  him,  by  the  fear  of  the  penitentiary,  into 
going  to  the  place  of  trial.  But  once  inside  the 
door,  and  once  in  sight  of  Small,  who  was  more  to 
him  than  God,  or,  rather,  more  to  him  than  the 
devil — for  the  devil  was  Walter's  God,  or,  perhaps, 
I  should  say,  Walter's  God  was  a  devil — once  in 
sight  of  Small,  he  refused  to  move  an  inch  farther. 
And  Bud,  after  all  his  perseverance,  was  about  to 
give  up  in  sheer  despair. 

Fortunately,  just  at  that  moment  Small's  desire 
to  relieve  himself  from  the  taint  of  suspicion  and 
to  crush  Ralph  as  completely  as  possible,  made  him 


256  THE   HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

overshoot  the  mark  by  asking  that  Walter  be  called 
to  the  stand,  as  we  have  before  recounted.  He 
knew  that  he  had  no  tool  so  supple  as  the  cowardly 
Walter.  In  the  very  language  of  the  request,  he 
had  given  Walter  an  intimation  of  what  he  wanted 
him  to  swear  to.  Walter  listened  to  Small's  words 
as  to  his  doom.  He  felt  that  he  should  die  of  inde 
cision.  The  perdition  of  a  man  of  his  stamp  is  to 
have  to  make  up  his  mind.  Such  men  generally 
fall  back  on  some  one  more  positive,  and  take  all 
their  resolutions  ready-made.  But  here  Walter 
must  decide  for  himself.  For  the  constable  was 
already  calling  his  name;  the  court,  the  spectators, 
and,  most  of  all,  Dr.  Small,  were  waiting  for  him. 
He  moved  forward  mechanically  through  the  dense 
crowd.  Bud  following  part  of  the  way  to  whisper, 
"Tell  the  truth  or  go  to  penitentiary."  Walter 
shook  and  shivered  at  this.  The  witness  with  diffi 
culty  held  up  his  hand  long  enough  to  be  sworn. 

"  Please  tell  the  court,"  said  Bronson,  "  whether 
you  know  anything  of  the  whereabouts  of  Dr. 
Small  on  the  night  of  the  robbery  at  Peter  Schroe- 
der's" 

Small  had  detected  Walter's  agitation,  and,  tak 
ing  alarm,  had  edged  his  way  around  so  as  to  stand 
Cull  irv  Walter's  sight,  and  there,  with  keen,  mag 
netic  eye  on  the  weak  orbs  of  the  young  man,  he 


THE  TRIAL  CONCLUDED.  257 

was  able  to  assume  his  old  position,  and  sway  the 
fellow  absolutely. 

"  On  the  night  of  the  robbery  " — Walter's  voice 
was  weak,  but  he  seemed  to  be  reading  his  answer 
out  of  Small's  eyes — "  on  the  night  of  the  robbery 

Dr.  Small  came  home  before "  here  the  witness 

stopped  and  shook  and  shivered  again.  For  Bud, 
detecting  the  effect  of  Small's  gaze,  had  pushed  his 
great  hulk  in  front  of  Small,  and  had  fastened  his 
eyes  on  Walter  with  a  look  that  said,  "  Tell  the 
truth  or  go  to  penitentiary." 

"I  can't,  I  can't.  O  God!  What  shall  I  do?" 
the  witness  exclaimed,  answering  the  look  of  Bud. 
For  it  seemed  to  him  that  Bud  had  spoKen.  To 
the  people  and  the  court  this  agitation  was  inex 
plicable.  Squire  Hawkins's  wig  got  awrv.  his  glass 
eye  turned  in  toward  his  nose,  and  he  had  great 
difficulty  in  keeping  his  teeth  from  falling  out.  The 
excitement  became  painfully  intense.  Ralph  was 
on  his  feet,  looking  at  the  witness,  and  feeling  that 
somehow  Bud  and  Dr.  Small — his  good  angel  and 
his  demon — were  playing  an  awful  game,  or  which 
he  was  the  stake.  The  crowd  swayed  to  and  fro, 
but  remained  utterly  silent,  waiting  to  hear  the 
least  whisper  from  the  witness,  who  stood  trembling 
a  moment  with  his  hands  over  his  face,  ana  men 
fainted. 


THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

The  fainting  of  a  person  in  a  crowd  is  a  signal 
ior  everybody  else  to  make  fools  of  themselves. 
There  was  a  rush  toward  the  fainting  man,  there 
was  a  cry  for  water.  Everybody  asked  everybody 
else  to  open  the  window,  and  everybody  wished 
everybody  else  to  stand  back  and  give  him  air. 
But  nobody  opened  the  window,  and  nobody  stood 
back.  The  only  perfectly  cool  man  in  the  room 
was  Small.  With  a  quiet  air  of  professional  au 
thority  he  pushed  forward  and  felt  the  patient's 
pulse,  remarking  to  the  court  that  he  thought  i'c 
was  a  sudden  attack  of  fever  with  delirium.  When 
Walter  revived,  Dr.  Small  would  have  removed 
aim,  but  Ralph  insisted  that  his  testimony  should 
oe  heard.  Under  pretense  of  watching  his  patient, 
5mall  kept  close  to  him.  And  Walter  began  the 
aame  old  story  about  Dr.  Small's  having  arrived 
at  the  office  before  eleven  o'clock,  when  Bud  came 
up  behind  the  doctor  and  fastened  his  eyes  on 
the  witness  with  the  same  significant  look,  and 
Walter,  with  visions  of  the  penitentiary  before 
him  halted,  stammered,  and  seemed  about  to  faint 
again. 

"  If  the  court  please,"  said  Bronson,  "  this  witness 
is  evidently  intimidated  by  that  stout  young  man," 
pointing  to  Bud.  "  I  have  seen  him  twice  interrupt 
witness's  testimony  by  casting  threatening  looks  at 


THE  TRIAL  CONCLUDED.  259 

him.  I  trust  the  court  will  have  him  removed  from 
the  court-room." 

After  a  few  moments'  consultation,  during  which 
Squire  Hawkins  held  his  wig  in  place  with  one 
hand  and  alternately  adjusted  his  eye  and  his  spec 
tacles  with  the  other,  the  magistrates,  who  were 
utterly  bewildered  by  the  turn  things  were  taking, 
decided  that  it  could  do  no  harm,  and  that  it  was 
best  to  try  the  experiment  of  removing  Bud.  Per- 
haps  Johnson  would  then  be  able  to  get  through 
with  his  testimony.  The  constable  therefore  asked 
Bud  if  he  would  please  leave  the  room.  Bud  cast 
one  last  look  at  the  witness  and  walked  out  like  a 
captive  bear. 

Ralph  stood  watching  the  receding  form  of  Bud. 
The  emergency  had  made  him  as  cool  as  Small 
ever  was.  Bud  stopped  at  the  door,  where  he  was 
completely  out  of  sight  of  the  witness,  concealed 
by  the  excited  spectators,  who  stood  on  the  benches 
to  see  what  was  going  on  in  front. 

"  The  witness  will  please  proceed,"  said  Bronson. 

"  If  the  court  please  " — it  was  Ralph  who  spoke 
— "  I  believe  I  have  as  much  at  stake  in  this  trial  as 
any  one.  That  witness  is  evidently  intimidated. 
But  not  by  Mr.  Means.  I  ask  that  Dr.  Small  be 
removed  out  of  sight  of  the  witness." 

"A   most   extraordinary  request,  truly."     This 


260  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

was  what  Small's  bland  countenance  said;  he  did 
not  open  his  lips. 

"  It's  no  more  than  fair,"  said  Squire  Hawkins, 
adjusting  his  wig,  "  that  the  witness  be  relieved  of 
everything  that  anybody  might  think  affects  his 
veracity  in  this  matter." 

Dr.  Small,  giving  Walter  one  friendly,  appealing 
look,  moved  back  by  the  door,  and  stood  alongside 
Bud,  as  meek,  quiet,  and  disinterested  as  any  man 
in  the  house. 

"  The  witness  will  now  proceed  with  his  testi 
mony."  This  time  it  was  Squire  Hawkins  who 
spoke.  Bronson  had  been  attacked  with  a  suspi 
cion  that  this  witness  was  not  just  what  he  wanted, 
and  had  relapsed  into  silence. 

Walter's  struggle  was  by  no  means  ended  by  the 
disappearance  of  Small  and  Bud.  There  came  the 
recollection  of  his  mother's  stern  face — a  face  which 
had  never  been  a  motive  toward  the  right,  but  only 
a  goad  to  deception.  What  would  she  say  if  he 
should  confess?  Just  as  he  had  recovered  himself, 
and  was  about  to  repeat  the  old  lie  which  had  twice 
died  upon  his  lips  at  the  sight  of  Bud's  look,  he 
caught  sight  of  another  face,  which  made  him  trem 
ble  again.  It  was  the  lofty  and  terrible  counte 
nance  of  Mr.  Soden.  One  might  have  thought, 
from  the  expression  it  wore,  that  the  seven  last 


THE  TRIAL  CONCLUDED.  261 

vials  were  in  his  hands,  the  seven  apocalyptic  trum 
pets  waiting  for  his  lips,  and  the  seven  thunders 
sitting  upon  his  eyebrows.  The  moment  that 
Walter  saw  him  he  smelled  the  brimstone  on  his 
own  garments,  he  felt  himself  upon  the  crumbling 
brink  of  the  precipice,  with  perdition  below  him. 
Now  I  am  sure  that  "  Brother  Sodoms  "  were  not 
made  wholly  in  vain.  There  are  plenty  of  mean- 
spirited  men  like  Walter  Johnson,  whose  feeble  con 
sciences  need  all  the  support  they  can  get  from  the 
fear  of  perdition,  and  who  are  incapable  of  any 
other  conception  of  it  than  a  coarse  and  materialis 
tic  one.  Let  us  set  it  down  to  the  credit  of  Brother 
Sodom,  with  his  stiff  stock,  his  thunderous  face, 
and  his  awful  walk,  that  his  influence  over  Walter 
was  on  the  side  of  truth. 

"  Please  proceed,*  said  Squire  Hawkins  to  Walter 
The  Squire's  wig  lay  on  one  side,  he  had  forgotten 
to  adjust  his  eye,  and  he  leaned  forward,  tremulous 
with  interest. 

"Well,  then,"  said  Walter,  looking  not  at  the 
court  nor  at  Bronson  nor  at  the  prisoner,  but  fur 
tively  at  Mr.  Soden — "  well,  then,  if  I  must  " — and 
Mr.  Soden's  awful  face  seemed  to  answer  that  he 
surely  must — "well,  then,  I  hope  you  won't  send 
me  to  prison" — this  to  Squire  Hawkins,  whose  face 
reassured  him — "  but,  oh !  I  don't  see  how  I  can !  " 


262  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

But  one  look  at  Mr.  Soden  assured  him  that  he 
could  and  that  he  must,  and  so,  with  an  agony 
painful  to  the  spectators,  he  told  the  story  in  drib 
lets.  How,  while  yet  in  Lewisburg,  he  had  been 
made  a  member  of  a  gang  of  which  Small  was  chief ; 
how  they  concealed  from  him  the  names  of  all  the 
band  except  six,  of  whom  the  Joneses  and  Small 
were  three. 

Here  there  was  a  scuffle  at  the  door.  The  court 
demanded  silence. 

"  Dr.  Small's  trying  to  git  out,  plague  take  him," 
said  Bud,  who  stood  with  his  back  planted  against 
the  door.  "  I'd  like  the  court  to  send  and  git  his 
trunk  afore  he  has  a  chance  to  burn  up  all  the 
papers  that's  in  it." 

"  Constable,  you  will  arrest  Dr.  Small,  Peter 
Jones,  and  William  Jones.  Send  two  deputies  to 
bring  Small's  trunk  into  court,"  said  Squire  Under 
wood. 

The  prosecuting  attorney  was  silent. 

Walter  then  told  of  the  robbery  at  Schroeder's, 
told  where  he  and  Small  had  whittled  the  fence 
while  the  Joneses  entered  the  house,  and  confirmed 
Ralph's  story  by  telling  how  they  had  seen  Ralph 
in  a  fence-corner,  and  how  they  had  met  the  basket- 
maker  on  the  hill. 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  the  old   man,  who  had  not 


THE  TRIAL  CONCLUDED.  263 

ventured  to  hold  up  his  head,  after  he  was  arrested, 
until  Walter  began  his  testimony. 

Walter  felt  inclined  to  stop,  but  he  could  not  do 
it,  for  there  stood  Mr.  Soden,  looking  to  him  like  a 
messenger  from  the  skies,  or  the  bottomless  pit, 
sent  to  extort  the  last  word  from  his  guilty  soul. 
He  felt  that  he  was  making  a  clean  breast  of  it — at 
the  risk  of  perdition,  with  the  penitentiary  thrown 
in,  if  he  faltered.  And  so  he  told  the  whole 
thing  as  though  it  had  been  the  day  of  doom,  and 
by  the  time  he  was  through,  Small's  trunk  was  in 
court. 

Here  a  new  hubbub  took  place  at  the  door.  It 
was  none  other  than  the  crazy  pauper,  Tom  Bifield, 
who  personated  General  Andrew  Jackson  in  the 
poor-house.  He  had  caught  some  inkling  of  the 
trial,  and  had  escaped  in  Bill  Jones's  absence. 
His  red  plume  was  flying,  and  in  his  tattered  and 
filthy  garb  he  was  indeed  a  picturesque  figure. 

"  Squar,"  said  he,  elbowing  his  way  through  the 
crowd,  "  I  kin  tell  you  somethin*.  I'm  Gineral 
Andrew  Jackson.  Lost  my  head  at  Bueny  Visty. 
This  head  growed  on.  It  a'n't  good  fer  much. 
One  side's  tater.  But  t'other's  sound  as  a  nut.  ' 
Now,  I  kind  give  you  information." 

Bronson,  with  the  quick  perceptions  of  a  politi 
cian,  had  begun  to  see  which  way  future  winds 


264  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

would  probably  blow.  "  If  the  court  please,"  he 
said,  "this  man  is  not  wholly  sane,  but  we  might 
get  valuable  information  out  of  him.  I  suggest 
that  his  testimony  be  taken  for  what  it  is  worth." 

"  No,  you  don't  swar  me,"  broke  in  the  lunatic. 
"  Not  if  I  knows  myself.  You  see,  when  a  feller's 
got  one  side  of  his  head  tater,  he's  mighty  onsartain 
like.  You  don't  swar  me,  fer  I  can't  tell  what 
minute  the  tater  side'll  begin  to  talk.  I'm  talkin' 
out  of  the  lef  side  now,  and  I'm  all  right.  But 
you  don't  swar  me.  But  ef  you'll  send  some  of 
your  constables  out  to  the  barn  at  the  pore-house 
and  look  under  the  hay-mow  in  the  north-east  cor 
ner,  you'll  find  some  things  maybe  as  has  been 
a-missin'  fer  some  time.  And  that  a'n't  out  of  the 
tater  side,  nuther." 

Meantime  Bud  did  not  rest.  Hearing  the  nature 
of  the  testimony  given  by  Hank  Banta  before  he 
entered,  he  attacked  Hank  and  vowed  he'd  send 
him  to  prison  if  he  didn't  make  a  clean  breast. 
Hank  was  a  thorough  coward,  and,  now  that  his 
friends  were  prisoners,  was  ready  enough  to  tell  the 
truth  if  he  could  be  protected  from  prosecution. 
Seeing  the  disposition  of  the  prosecuting  attorney, 
Bud  got  from  him  a  promise  that  he  would  do  what 
he  could  to  protect  Hank.  That  worthy  then  took 
the  stand,  confessed  his  lie,  and  even  told  the  in- 


THE  TRIAL  CONCLUDED.  265 

ducement  which  Mr.  Pete  Jones  had  offered  him  to 
perjure  himself. 

"  To  be  sure,"  said  Pearson. 

Squire  Hawkins,  turning  his  right  eye  upon  him, 
while  the  left  looked  at  the  ceiling,  said :  "  Be  care 
ful,  Mr.  Pearson,  or  I  shall  have  to  punish  you  for 
contempt." 

"  Why,  Squar,  I  didn't  know  'twas  any  sin  to  hev 
a  healthy  contemp'  fer  sech  a  thief  as  Jones! " 

The  Squire  looked  at  Mr.  Pearson  severely,  and 
the  latter,  feeling  that  he  had  committed  some 
offense  without  knowing  it,  subsided  into  silence. 

Bronson  now  had  a  keen  sense  of  the  direction 
of  the  gale. 

"  If  the  court  please,"  said  he,  "  I  have  tried  to 
do  my  duty  in  this  case.  It  was  my  duty  to  pros 
ecute  Mr.  Hartsook,  however  much  I  might  feel 
assured  that  he  was  innocent,  and  that  he  would 
be  able  to  prove  his  innocence.  I  now  enter  a 
nolle  in  his  case  and  that  of  John  Pearson,  and  I 
ask  that  this  court  adjourn  until  to-morrow,  in 
order  to  give  me  time  to  examine  the  evidence  in 
the  case  of  the  other  parties  under  arrest.  I  am 
proud  to  think  that  my  efforts  have  been  the  means 
of  sifting  the  matter  to  the  bottom,  of  freeing  Mr. 
Hartsook  from  suspicion,  and  of  detecting  the  real 
criminals."  . 


266  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

"  Ugh !  "  said  Mr.  Pearson,  who  conceived  a  great 
dislike  to  Bronson. 

"  The  court,"  said  Squire  Hawkins,  "  congratu- 
lates  Mr.  Hartsook  on  his  triumphant  acquittal. 
He  is  discharged  from  the  bar  of  this  court,  and 
from  the  bar  of  public  sentiment,  without  a  suspi 
cion  of  guilt.  Constable,  discharge  Ralph  Hartsook 
and  John  Pearson." 

Old  Jack  Means,  who  had  always  had  a  warm 
side  for  the  master,  now  proposed  three  cheers  for 
Mr.  Hartsook,  and  they  were  given  with  a  will  by 
the  people  who  would  have  hanged  him  an  hour 
before. 

Mrs.  Means  gave  it  as  her  opinion  that  "Jack 
Means  allers  wuz  a  fool!  " 

"This  court,"  said  Dr.  Underwood,  "has  one 
other  duty  to  perform  before  adjourning  for  the 
day.  Recall  Hannah  Thomson." 

"  I  jist  started  her  on  ahead  to  git  supper  and 
milk  the  cows,"  said  Mrs.  Means.  "  A'n't  a-goin'  to 
have  her  loafin'  here  all  day." 

"  Constable,  recall  her.  This  court  can  not  ad 
journ  until  she  returns! " 

Hannah  had  gone  but  a  little  way,  and  was  soon 
in  the  presence  of  the  court,  trembling  for  fear  of 
some  new  calamity. 

"  Hannah  Thomson  " — it  was  Squire  Underwood 


THE   TRIAL   CONCLUDED.  267 

who  spoke — "  Hannah  Thomson,  this  court  wishes 
to  ask  you  one  or  two  questions." 

"Yes,  sir,"  but  her  voice  died  to  a  whisper. 

"  How  old  did  you  say  you  were  ?  " 

"  Eighteen,  sir,  last  October." 

*'  Can  you  prove  your  age  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir — by  my  mother." 

"  For  how  long  are  you  bound  to  Mr.  Means  ?  " 

"Till  I'm  twenty-one." 

"  This  court  feels  in  duty  bound  to  inform  you 
that,  according  to  the  laws  of  Indiana,  a  woman  is 
of  age  at  eighteen,  and  as  no  indenture  could  be 
made  binding  after  you  had  reached  your  majority, 
you  are  the  victim  of  a  deception.  You  are  free, 
and  if  it  can  be  proven  that  you  have  been  de 
frauded  by  a  willful  deception,  a  suit  for  damages 
will  lie." 

"Ugh!"  said  Mrs.  Means.  "You're  a  purty 
court,  a'n't  you,  Dr.  Underwood  ?  " 

"  Be  careful,  Mrs.  Means,  or  I  shall  have  to  fine 
you  for  contempt  of  court." 

But  the  people,  who  were  in  the  cheering  humor, 
cheered  Hannah  and  the  justices,  and  then  cheered 
Ralph  again.  Granny  Sanders  shook  hands  with 
him,  and  allers  knowed  he'd  come  out  right.  It 
allers  'peared  like  as  if  Dr.  Small  warn't  jist  the 
sort  to  tie  to,  you  know.  And  old  John  Pearson 


268  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

went  home,  after  drinking  two  or  three  glasses  of 
Welch's  whisky,  keeping  time  to  an  imaginary  tri. 
umphal  march,  and  feeling  prouder  than  he  had 
ever  felt  since  he  fit  the  Britishers  under  Scott  at 
Lundy's  Lane.  He  told  his  wife  that  the  master 
had  jist  knocked  the  hind-sights  offen  that  air  young 
lawyer  from  Lewisburg. 

Walter  was  held  to  bail  that  he  might  appear  as 
a  witness,  and  Ralph  might  have  sent  his  aunt  a 
Roland  for  an  Oliver.  But  he  only  sent  a  note  to 
his  uncle,  asking  him  to  go  Walter's  bail.  If  he 
had  been  resentful,  he  could  not  have  wished  for  a 
complete  revenge  than  the  day  had  brought. 


CHAPTER   XXXII. 

AFTER     THE     BATTLE. 

NOTHING  can  be  more  demoralizing  in  the  long 
run  than  lynch  law.  And  yet  lynch  law  often  orig 
inates  in  a  burst  of  generous  indignation  which  is 
not  willing  to  suffer  a  bold  oppressor  to  escape  by 
means  of  corrupt  and  cowardly  courts.  It  is  oftener 
born  of  fear.  Both  motives  powerfully  agitated  the 
people  of  the  region  round  about  Clifty  as  night 
drew  on  after  Ralph's  acquittal.  They  were  justly 
indignant  that  Ralph  had  been  made  the  victim  of 
such  a  conspiracy,  and  they  were  frightened  at  the 
unseen  danger  to  the  community  from  such  a  band 
as  that  of  Small's.  It  was  certain  that  they  did  not 
know  the  full  extent  of  the  danger  as  yet.  And 
what  Small  might  do  with  a  jury,  or  what  Pete 
Jones  might  do  with  a  sheriff,  was  a  question.  I 
must  not  detain  the  reader  to  tell  how  the  mob 
rose.  Nobody  knows  how  such  things  come  about. 
Their  origin  is  as  inexplicable  as  that  of  an  earth 
quake.  But,  at  any  rate,  a  rope  was  twice  put 
round  Small's  neck  during  that  night,  and  both 

360 


2/0  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOLMASTER. 

times  Small  was  saved  only  by  the  nerve  and  ad 
dress  of  Ralph,  who  had  learned  how  unjust  mob 
law  may  be.  As  for  Small,  he  neither  trembled 
when  they  were  ready  to  hang  him,  nor  looked  re 
lieved  when  he  was  saved,  nor  showed  the  slightest 
flush  of  penitence  or  gratitude.  He  bore  himself 
in  a  quiet,  gentlemanly  way  throughout,  like  the 
admirable  villain  that  he  was. 

He  waived  a  preliminary  examination  the  next 
day;  his  father  went  his  bail,  and  he  forfeited 
bail  and  disappeared  from  the  county  and  from  the 
horizon  of  my  story.  Two  reports  concerning 
Small  have  been  in  circulation — one  that  he  was 
running  a  faro-bank  in  San  Francisco,  the  other 
that  he  was  curing  consumption  in  New  York  by 
some  quack  process.  If  this  latter  were  true,  it 
would  leave  it  an  open  question  whether  Ralph 
did  well  to  save  him  from  the  gallows.  Pete  Jones 
and  Bill,  as  usually  happens  to  the  rougher  villains, 
went  to  prison,  and  when  their  terms  had  expired 
moved  to  Pike  County,  Missouri. 

But  it  is  about  Hannah  that  you  wish  to  hear, 
and  that  I  wish  to  tell.  She  went  straight  from 
the  court  room  to  Flat  Creek,  climbed  to  her  cham 
ber,  packed  in  a  handkerchief  all  her  earthly  goods, 
consisting  chiefly  of  a  few  family  relics,  and  turned 
her  back  on  the  house  of  Means  forever.  At  the 


AFTER   THE   BATTLE.  27! 

gate  she  met  the  old  woman,  who  shook  her  fist  in 
the  girl's  face  and  gave  her  a  parting  benediction 
in  the  words:  "You  mis'able,  ongrateful  critter 
you,  go  'long.  I'm  glad  to  be  shed  of  you!"  At 
the  barn  she  met  Bud,  and  he  told  her  good-by  with 
a  little  huskiness  in  his  voice,  while  a  tear  glistened 
in  her  eyes.  Bud  had  been  a  friend  in  need,  and 
such  a  friend  one  does  not  leave  without  a  pang. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?     Can  I " 

"  No,  no ! "  And  with  that  she  hastened  on, 
afraid  that  Bud  would  offer  to  hitch  up  the  roan 
colt.  And  she  did  not  want  to  add  to  his  domestic 
unhappiness  by  compromising  him  in  that  way. 

It  was  dusk  and  was  raining  when  she  left.  The 
hours  were  long,  the  road  was  lonely,  and  after  the 
revelations  of  that  day  it  did  not  seem  wholly  safe. 
But  from  the  moment  that  she  found  herself  free, 
her  heart  had  been  ready  to  break  with  an  impa 
tient  homesickness.  What  though  there  might  be 
robbers  in  the  woods  ?  What  though  there  were 
ten  rough  miles  to  travel  ?  What  though  the  rain 
was  in  her  face  ?  What  though  she  had  not  tasted 
food  since  the  morning  of  that  exciting  day  ?  Flat 
Creek  and  bondage  were  behind;  freedom,  mother, 
Shocky,  and  home  were  before  her,  and  her  feet 
grew  lighter  with  the  thought.  And  if  she  needed 
any  other  joy,  it  was  to  know  that  the  master  was 


2/2  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

clear.  And  he  would  come  ?  And  so  she  traversed 
the  weary  distance,  and  so  she  inquired  and  found 
the  house,  the  beautiful,  homely  old  house  of  beau 
tiful,  homely  old  Nancy  Sawyer,  and  knocked,  and 
was  admitted,  and  fell  down,  faint  and  weary,  at 
her  blind  mother's  feet,  and  laid  her  tired  head  in 
her  mother's  lap  and  wept  and  wept  like  a  child, 
and  said,  "O  mother!  I'm  free!  I'm  free!"  while 
the  mother's  tears  baptized  her  face,  and  the 
mother's  trembling  fingers  combed  out  her  tresses. 
And  Shocky  stood  by  her  and  cried:  "I  knowed 
God  wouldn't  forget  you,  Hanner!" 

Hannah  was  ready  now  to  do  anything  by  which 
she  could  support  her  mother  and  Shocky.  She 
was  strong,  and  inured  to  toil.  She  was  willing 
and  cheerful,  and  she  would  gladly  have  gone  to 
service  if  by  that  means  she  could  have  supported 
the  family.  And,  for  that  matter  her  mother  was 
already  able  nearly  to  support  herself  by  her  knit 
ting.  But  Hannah  had  been  carefully  educated 
when  young,  and  at  that  moment  the  old  public 
schools  were  being  organized  into  a  graded  school, 
and  the  good  minister,  who  shall  be  nameless,  be 
cause  he  is,  perhaps,  still  living  in  Indiana,  and  who 
in  Methodist  parlance  was  called  "the  preacher- 
in-charge  of  Lewisburg  Station  " — this  good  minis 
ter  and  Miss  Nancy  Sawyer  got  Hannah  a  place  as 


AFTER  THE  BATTLE.  2/3 

teacher  in  the  primary  department.  And  then  a 
little  house  with  four  rooms  was  rented,  and  a  little, 
a  very  little  furniture  was  put  into  it,  and  the  old, 
sweet  home  was  established  again.  The  father  was 
gone,  never  to  come  back  again.  But  the  rest  were 
here.  And  somehow  Hannah  kept  waiting  for 
somebody  else  to  come. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 

INTO  THE  LIGHT. 

FOR  two  weeks  longer  Ralph  taught  at  the  Flat 
Creek  school-house.  He  was  everybody's  hero. 
And  he  was  Bud's  idol.  He  did  what  he  could  to 
get  Bud  and  Martha  together,  and  though  Bud 
always  "  saw  her  safe  home  "  after  this,  and  called 
on  her  every  Sunday  evening,  yet,  to  save  his  life, 
he  could  not  forget  his  big  fists  and  his  big  feet 
long  enough  to  s-  y  what  he  most  wanted  to  say, 
and  what  Martha  most  wanted  him  to  say. 

At  the  end  of  two  weeks  Ralph  found  himself 
exceedingly  weary  of  Flat  Creek,  and  exceedingly 
glad  to  hear  from  Mr.  Means  that  the  school-money 
had  "gin  out."  It  gave  him  a  good  excuse  to  re 
turn  to  Lewisburg,  where  his  heart  and  his  treasure 
were.  A  certain  sense  of  delicacy  had  kept  him 
from  writing  to  Hannah  just  yet. 

When  he  got  to  Lewisburg  he  had  good  news. 
His  uncle,  ashamed  of  his  previous  neglect,  and 
perhaps  with  an  eye  to  his  nephew's  growing  popu 
larity,  had  got  him  the  charge  of  the  grammar  de- 


INTO  THE  LIGHT.  2/5 

partment  in  the  new  graded  school  in  the  village. 
So  he  quietly  arranged  to  board  at  a  boarding- 
house.  His  aunt  could  not  have  him  about,  of 
which  fact  he  was  very  glad.  She  could  not  but 
feel,  she  said,  that  he  might  have  taken  better  care 
of  Walter  than  he  did,  when  they  were  only  four 
miles  apart. 

He  did  not  hasten  to  call  on  Hannah.  Why 
should  he  ?  He  sent  her  a  message,  of  no  conse 
quence  in  itself,  by  Nancy  Sawyer.  Then  he  took 
possession  of  his  school;  and  then,  on  the  evening 
of  the  first  day  of  school,  he  went,  as  he  had  ap 
pointed  to  himself,  to  see  Hannah  Thomson. 

And  she,  with  some  sweet  presentiment,  had  got 
things  ready  r  y  fixing  up  the  scantily-furnished 
room  as  well  as  she  ":ould.  And  Miss  Nancy 
Sawyer,  who  had  seen  Ralph  that  afternoon,  had 
guessed  that  he  was  going  to  see  Hannah.  It's 
wonderful  how  much  enjoyment  a  generous  heart 
can  get  out  of  the  happiness  of  others.  Is  not  that 
what  He  meant  when  he  said  of  such  as  Miss  Sawyer 
that  they  should  have  a  hundred-fold  in  this  life  for 
all  their  sacrifices?  Did  not  Miss  Nancy  enjoy  a 
hundred  weddings  and  have  the  love  of  five  hun 
dred  children  ?  And  so  Miss  Nancy  just  happened 
over  at  Mrs.  Thomson's  humble  home,  and,  just 
in  the  most  matter-of-course  way,  asked  that  lady 


2/6  THE  HOOSIER  SCHOOL-MASTER. 

and  Shocky  to  come  over  to  her  house.  Shocky 
wanted  Hannah  to  come  too.  But  Hannah  blushed 
a  little,  and  said  that  she  would  rather  not. 

And  when  she  was  left  alone,  Hannah  fixed  her 
hair  two  or  three  times,  and  swept  the  hearth,  and 
moved  the  chairs  first  one  way  and  then  another, 
and  did  a  good  many  other  needless  things.  Need 
less  :  for  a  lover,  if  he  be  a  lover,  does  not  see  furni-  - 
ture  or  dress. 

And  then  she  sat  down  by  the  fire,  and  tried  to 
sew,  and  tried  to  look  unconcerned,  and  tried  to 
feel  unconcerned,  and  tried  not  to  expect  anybody, 
and  tried  to  make  her  4ieart  keep  still.  And  tried 
in  vain.  For  a  gentle  rap  at  the  door  sent  her 
pulse  up  twenty  beats  a  minute  an^  made  her  face 
burn.  And  Hartsook  was  for  the  fix  st  time,  abashed 
in  the  presence  of  Hannah.  For  the  oppressed  girl 
had,  in  two  weeks,  blossomed  out  into  the  full 
blown  woman. 

And  Ralph  sat  down  by  the  fire,  and  talked  of 
his  school  and  her  school,  and  everything  else  but 
what  he  wanted  to  talk  about.  And  then  the  con 
versation  drifted  back  to  Flat  Creek,  and  to  the 
walk  through  the  pasture,  and  to  the  box-elder  tree, 
and  to  the  painful  talk  in  the  lane.  And  Hannah 
begged  to  be  forgiven,  and  Ralph  laughed  at  the 
idea  that  she  had  done  anything  wrong.  And  she 


INTO  THE  LIGHT.  277 

praised  his  goodness  to  Shocky,  and  he  drew  her 

little  note  out  of But  I  agreed  not  tell  you 

where  he  kept  it.  And  then  she  blushed,  and  he 
told  how  the  note  had  sustained  him,  and  how  her 
white  face  kept  up  his  courage  in  his  flight  down 
the  bed  of  Clifty  Creek.  And  he  sat  a  little  nearer, 
to  show  her  the  note  that  he  had  carried  in  his 

bosom 1  have  told  it !     And but  I  must  not 

proceed.  A  love-scene,  ever  so  beautiful  in  itself, 
will  not  bear  telling.  And  so  I  shall  leave  a  little 
gap  just  here,  which  you  may  fill  up  as  you  please. 
.  .  .  Somehow,  they  never  knew  how,  they  got  to 
talking  about  the  future  instead  of  the  past,  after 
that,  and  to  planning  their  two  lives  as  one  life. 
And  .  .  .  And  when  Miss  Nancy  and  Mrs.  Thom 
son  returned  later  in  the  evening,  Ralph  was  stand 
ing  by  the  mantel-piece,  but  Shocky  noticed  that 
his  chair  was  close  to  Hannah's.  And  good  Miss 
Nancy  Sawyer  looked  in  Hannah's  face  and  was 
happy. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV. 

"HOW     IT     CAME     OUT." 

WE  are  all  children  in  reading  stories.  We  want 
more  than  all  else  to  know  how  it  all  came  out  at 
the  end,  and,  if  our  taste  is  not  perverted,  we  like 
it  to  come  out  well.  For  my  part,  ever  since  I  be 
gan  to  write  this  story,  I  have  been  anxious  to 
know  how  it  was  going  to  come  out. 

Well,  there  were  very  few  invited.  It  took  place 
at  ten  in  the  morning.  The  "  preacher-in-charge  " 
came,  of  course.  Miss  Nancy  Sawyer  was  there. 
But  Ralph's  uncle  was  away,  and  Aunt  Matilda  had 
a  sore  throat  and  couldn't  come.  Perhaps  the 
memory  of  the  fact  that  she  had  refused  Mrs. 
Thomson,  the  pauper,  a  bed  for  two  nights,  affected 
her  throat.  But  Miss  Nancy  and  her  sister  were 
there,  and  the  preacher.  And  that  was  all,  besides 
the  family,  and  Bud  and  Martha.  Of  course  Bud 
and  Martha  came.  And  driving  Martha  to  a  wed 
ding  in  a  "  jumper  "  was  the  one  opportunity  Bud 
needed.  His  hands  were  busy,  his  big  boots  were 

out  of  sight,  and  it  was  so  easy  to  slip  from  Ralph's 

278 


"HOW  IT  CAME  OUT."  279 

love  affair  to  his  own,  that  Bud  somehow,  in  pulling 
Martha  Hawkins's  shawl  about  her,  stammered  out 
half  a  proposal,  which  Martha,  generous  soul,  took 
for  the  wh?b  ceremony,  and  accepted.  And  Bud 
was  so  happy  that  Ralph  guessed  from  his  face  and 
voice  that  the  agony  was  over,  and  Bud  was  be 
trothed  at  last  to  the  "  gal  as  was  a  gal." 

And  after  Ralph  and  Hannah  were  married — 
there  was  no  trip,  Ralph  only  changed  his  boarding- 
place  and  became  head  of  the  house  at  Mrs.  Thom 
son's  thereafter — after  it  was  all  over,  Bud  came  to 
Mr.  Hartsook,  and,  snickering  just  a  little,  said  as 
how  as  him  and  Martha  had  fixed  it  all  up,  and 
now  they  wanted  to  ax  his  advice;  and  Martha, 
proud  but  blushing,  came  up  and  nodded  assent. 
Bud  said  as  how  as  he  hadn't  got  no  book-larnin* 
nor  nothin',  and  as  how  as  he  wanted  to  be  some- 
thin',  and  put  in  his  best  licks  fer  Him,  you  know. 
And  that  Marthy,  she  was  of  the  same  way  of 
thinkin',  and  that  was  a  blessin'.  And  the  Squire 
was  a-goin'  to  marry  agin',  and  Marthy  would 
ruther  vacate.  And  his  mother  and  Mirandy  was 
sech  as  he  wouldn't  take  no  wife  to.  And  he 
thought  as  how  Mr.  Hartsook  might  think  of  some 
way  or  some  place  where  he  and  Marthy  mout 
make  a  livin'  fer  the  present,  and  put  in  their  best 
licks  fer  Him,  you  know. 


280  THE   HOOSIER   SCHOOL-MASTER. 

Ralph  thought  a  moment.  He  was  about  to 
make  an  allusion  to  Hercules  and  the  Augean  sta 
bles,  but  he  remembered  that  Bud  would  not  un 
derstand  it,  though  it  might  remind  Martha  of  some 
thing  she  had  seen  at  the  East,  the  time  she  was  to 
Bosting. 

"  Bud,  my  dear  friend,"  said  Ralph,  "  it  looks  a 
little  hard  to  ask  you  to  take  a  new  wife  " — here 
Bud  looked  admiringly  at  Martha — "to  the  poor- 
house.  But  I  don't  know  anywhere  where  you  can 
do  so  much  good  for  Christ  as  by  taking  charge  of 
that  place,  and  I  can  get  the  appointment  for  you. 
The  new  commissioners  want  just  such  a  man." 

"  What  d'ye  say,  Marthy  ?  "  said  Bud. 

"  Why,  somebody  ought  to  do  for  the  poor,  and 
I  should  like  to  do  it" 

And  so  Hercules  cleaned  the  Augean  stables. 

And  so  my  humble,  homely  Hoosier  story  of 
twenty  years  ago '  draws  to  a  close,  and  not  without 
vegret  I  take  leave  of  Ralph  and  Hannah;  and 
Shocky,  and  Bud,  and  Martha,  and  Miss  Nancy,  and 
of  my  readers. 


P.  S. — A  copy  of  the  Lewisburg  Jeffersonian 
came  into  my  hands  to-day,  and  I  see  by  its  col 
umns  that  Ralph  Hartsook  is  principal  of  the  Lew- 

1  Wrjjtgp  in 


"HOW  IT  CAME   OUT."  28l 

isburg  Academy.  It  took  me  some  time,  however, 
to  make  out  that  the  sheriff  of  the  county,  Mr.  Israel 
W.  Means,  was  none  other  than  my  old  friend  Bud, 
of  the  Church  of  the  Best  Licks.  I  was  almost  as 
much  puzzled  over  his  name  as  I  was  when  I  saw 
an  article  in  a  city  paper,  by  Prof.  W.  J.  Thomson, 
on  Poor-Houses.  I  should  not  have  recognized  the 
writer  as  Shocky,  had  I  not  known  that  Shocky  has 
given  his  spare  time  to  making  outcasts  feel  that 
God  has  not  forgot. 


THE  END. 


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